The abnormal consequences of my attempt at a normal love life


After years of touring with bands and dating musicians I have found myself doing less of both these days. I’m touring less because I’m writing books, and I’m dating musicians less because after my messy split from the last one, I’m am definitely off rockstars.

So, as it goes after any breakup, my female friends gathered around me and implored me to change my type, and having not dated anyone who wasn’t in a band for over ten years, I realise they might be right.

The thing is, I’ve forgotten how to do normal relationships. The kind where you see the other person every day, and go on dates that don’t involve buses or hotels. Meeting the parents, not flirting with other people, being around for each other – this is all alien to me.

Maybe I’m getting old (thirty isn’t too many years away), maybe I’m just growing up or maybe I’m just getting bored of my ridiculous lifestyle, but the idea of having someone around all the time, some one I can rely on, someone I can watch Game of Thrones with in our onesies…well, that sounds positively wonderful.

So, with my bestie for support, I went about trying to meet a normal, local man – for onesie times and maybe more. Amazingly, it didn’t take me long to get chatting to the most ridiculously man I have ever met. and I wasn’t surprised to find out that he worked in the entertainment industry…just a different area to music. We swapped numbers, and spent the following day flirting via the wonderful medium of iMessage.

Now, when it comes to music, I have heard of everyone worth knowing about, but when it comes to other areas of entertainment I’m not so hot with who’s who. Unless they were on Big Brother or dated someone from a band, chances are I won’t recognise them, and that’s what happened here.

‘No, no,  no,’ my friend ticked me off. ‘He’s famous. We said no more famous people.’

What we actually said was no more musicians, but I clearly don’t know what’s best for me so the following day we had another attempt at finding me a nice, normal guy.

As luck (my newly highlighted hair and my low-cut top) would have it, I hit it off with another guy. He was handsome, charming and funny (which I priorities over everything) – my friends couldn’t take issue with this guy. We swapped numbers and spent the next couple of days phone-flirting.

Now, call me terrible, but against my friend’s most likely better judgement, I continued flirting with my famous fella too. Well, what harm could it do?

‘So, tell me about the new guy,’ my friend insisted. ‘What does this one do?’

‘Do you know, I didn’t ask,’ I replied. ‘I’ll ask now.’

And so I asked, and I received a reply not unlike what my first guy had told me he did.

‘Spit it out,’ my friend said, but I was too scared to tell her. I mean, what were the chances of something like this happening?

It turns out that guy number 2 not only did the same job as guy number 1, but that they were currently both working on the same project. Friends. Co-workers. Celebrities. Pretty much all the things that were going to interfere with my attempts at a normal relationship.

So, not only has my BFF washed her hands of my love life, but I can’t date either of these guys without seeming like some kind of celebrity stalker, targeting them because they’re famous. Little do they know, a famous guy is the last thing I want.

And so, the moral of the story is? I don’t know, I was hoping you guys would…


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