Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
You didn't get the message - didn't read the memo. Was it your breath? Was it your voice? Do your feet stink? Were you farting in public? Did someone say something about you? Is it your clothes? Are you fat? Does your nose run? Do you eat with your mouth open?
Nope - none of those things. It just happens. Like magic, only in reverse.
No specific thing - just the whole package. She's just not in to you.
Oil and water - you don't know why. You reminded her of someone. Cousin maybe - or a crazy uncle - or the next door neighbor who watches a little too long.
Just got that face - the one everybody hates to look at.
You never met. She doesn't know you - never had a chance to talk to her. Maybe if you did you could prove you weren't insane or creepy.
Maybe if you wrote a letter, or tried to call her. No - she'd think you were a stalker and call the police.
Swell - love sends you to jail and you never said a word to her.
Sit in your room at night, staring at the phone. You want to call her . . .she'll scream and hang up. She'll file a restraining order, you're convinced.
If this is what love is - count you out.
But maybe - just maybe she's the one with the inferiority complex. Maybe she's the one with bad breath, or a voice that sounds like Marge Simpson on Helium - you've never gotten close enough to actually hear her speak - don't know if she eats with her mouth open. Or has a face covered with makeup because she has enough zits to make her look like a Bran muffin.
All you know is what you've seen across a room.
You ARE an idiot, you know. But you aren't exactly a sex object, you'll admit. Never really "been there" or "done that" - just you and your imagination.
Still; she avoids you. There's that.
You let out a mile-long sigh and flip on the radio - KROQ should fix you up. Always does.
A blast of KROQ (Rock of The 90s) from January 6, 1989.
