I should first say that I over-think everything. I could write an entire novel about my musings on a loaf of brown bread. That said, music is a beautiful thing. It can give a million different messages to a million different people. Sometimes, songwriters try to point us in a certain direction. They name the song, and they give interviews on what inspired it, and what they were trying to express. But even then, we can choose to listen to the song and make our own interpretation.

Take the song ♫ One night ♫ by Ed Sheeran. It seems pretty straightforward, no? A song about a girl he slept with once … right? In fact, the only potentially confusing part is the chorus:

♫ Tell her that I love her ♫
♫ Tell her that I need her ♫
♫ Tell her that she’s more than a one-night stand ♫
♫ Tell her that she turns my cheeks the colour of my hair ♫
♫ All I wanna do is be near ♫

♫ Tell her that I love her more than anyone else ♫
♫ If you don’t, I’ll tell her myself ♫

It suggests that the boy has a crush on his friend’s one-night-girl. Which is odd because the verses describe his time with the girl in detail. What they ate, where they hung out, how the played. And she seems to know the exact kind of girl that he likes. Maybe she’s a one-night-at-a-time girl.

Maybe he sees her every night he’s in her town, which explains why she knows so much about him. Or maybe she’s a fan that has stalked him online. Or … it could just be a generic dedication to all one-night-stands that don’t hear these words from their bed-mates … which is why he offers to ‘tell her myself.’

 ♫ Oh well, she’s a local girl ♫
♫ No make-up ♫
♫ Cause she knows me well ♫
♫ Hair tied up in elastic band ♫
♫ With a kiss on the cheek ♫
 ♫ For her one-night man ♫

This is one of my favourite Ed Sheeran songs. The first few seconds hook my attention because they sound quite unlike any song I’ve heard. When I checked the timer, I noticed the riff is only a second long, but the beat break made it sound like four. There’s guitar there, but there’s also a bouncy riff that makes me think of a DJ scratching a vinyl record.

Then the vocals start, and oh glory it’s British! Or Irish. Or Yorkshire-ish. Well, it’s a UK accent, and I am sucker for UK accents. All 169 versions of it. Except maybe the Cockney one, which I enjoy listening to in the delicious-foreign-language kind of way. Meaning I like the sound of it, but have no clue what they’re saying, or how it could possibly be English.

This song is romantic to me. Not in the sense that it’s sexy. More in the exotic adventure kind of way. I read somewhere that Ed spent the early part of his career couch surfing as he played gigs all over the country and selling CDs out of his backpack. (Okay it said sofa surfing. Hurray for British English.) So I like to think it’s about a girl he met one night after a show.  He might not even remember her name. Or maybe it’s a composite song about all the pretty girls who gave him their sofas before he was famous.

I like to think that girl is still in her home town, and that sometimes she listens to this song and smiles. Or maybe they all sit on their sofas, the sofas where he spent the night, and wonder if the song is about them. Though … technically, he wasn’t actually on the sofa, since in his words,

♫ Are you taking me back tonight? ♫
♫ Tell me if that’s alright ♫
♫ I don’t wanna be here ♫
♫ I’m not the sofa type ♫

I suppose that’s why I like the song so much. I’ve been a one-night girl, and I generally feel quite sad when the boy doesn’t call me the next day. Or when he rushes me out of his house in the morning. After all, one-night-stand or not, I’m still a girl that wants to be cherished, and after sharing my body with a man, I’d like to feel like it meant something. It doesn’t have to be happily ever after, but I like to feel like more than an organic urinal he jacked off into. In the song, Ed seems to have a strange affection for this girl he spent one night with.

♫ She’s like the fast food ♫
♫ I’ll regret it after ♫
♫ And I needed money ♫
♫ But I’m too shy to ask her ♫
♫ So she buys me chips and cheese ♫
♫ And I tell her that I love her ♫
♫ And she’s all I need ♫

Of course these are largely lies. You don’t fall for a girl after spending a night in her bed, even if you’re broke and she buys you chips funga. Technically, he got a double chips funga (with cheese) but hey. Plus, everything sounds pretty in British – even lies. And I suppose it’s possible he was genuinely touched. I mean here was a boy trying to be a star, too broke to pay for a hotel, too proud to admit it to a virtual stranger.

Well, he says he’s too shy. In reality, how do you go telling someone you just met that you can’t even afford a pack of fries? The human race is weird that way. You can meet a girl or boy and end up in their bed five minutes later, which in some ways is the ultimate form of trust. I mean come on. They could be serial murderers. They could choke you in your sleep. They could give you AIDS.

But then after that show of absolute trust, you can’t turn around and tell them you have 50 bob in your pocket and no idea how to get home. I’m guessing this is how Ed feels. And the girl reads his mind and gives him dinner, a bed, and muse. I’d be fond of that girl too.

Another thing I like about the song is it makes him seem shy and vulnerable, not the suave lady-killer that all rock stars seem to be. I suppose he was – at least at the time – since Loose Change was released in 2010 when he was still – technically – a teenager. He left home at 16 to be a star, which for him meant ‘all day in the studio, all night playing gigs, selling CDs of his songs out of his backpack to put cash in his pocket to get to the next gig.’

I realise I’m romanticising the entire thing. This is a song about one-night-sex where the guy basically admits being a langa [♫ I’m not the sofa type ♫]. And there’s nothing beautiful about wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, even if the boy writes a song about it after. In fact, it’s a tad worse that he wrote a song about it, since this is basically the musical version of the #AfterSexSelfie. Which really should look more like this, no?

He’s basically bragging to his – friends – and the world – about the girl he banged one night. Hardly something for the girl to be pleased about. I mean, if this was a hip-hop song, the … descriptive terms … would be a lot less vulgar, like…

♫ I don’t really dance so I’ll just watch you ♫

vs … oh … I don’t know …

♫ shake that ass, drop that booty blah blah blah ♫

Or

♫ she turns my cheeks the colour of my hair ♫

instead of

♫ I hit that thing like a *insert typically descriptive hip-hop phrase*♫

In case you hadn’t noticed, that ginger hair line is my favourite part of the song. I’d like to think he puts it that way because he’s so sweet, but maybe that’s just him being British. After all, a boy with an entire documentary dedicated to his tattoos is more likely to be masochist than cuddly and innocent. Either way, that’s probably why I like the song so much. Instead of painting her as some crazed groupie, he makes her sound like a person he genuinely enjoyed being with.

Of course, in the end, this is pure conjecture and writer’s license. For all I know, 16-year-old Ed was sitting in his flat, strumming his guitar, writing about this girl he’d never met. He makes it sound awfully pretty though. Sigh. I suppose this is why musicians are bad news, yes? Especially the ones with pretty hair and British accents.

♫ One night ♫ Ed Sheeran ♫

First, look, listen, and beware that at the time of posting, this is all jail bait.

Now then. Since April this year, I’ve spent almost every weekend with these boys (and girls. Yes, there are girls.) And yes, these pretty (immensely talented) little children have made me feel old. They did teach me a few things though. For example, that song they’re singing at the end of the video? Yes, that one. I googled it.

I then torrented both Hobbit movies (I had watched the first one in 3D) and sat through four hours of uninspiring Jacksonian Tolkien, just to hear that song. I should have just scrolled to the credits. Le sigh. Anyway, I followed up by Googling the guy, the super talented ginger behind the voice. I read everything I could on him, tried to buy his music on Amazon, and when that failed, I downloaded a whole bunch of torrents. Sorry Ed. Did I mention he likes hoodies and shorts? And chokers? This boy, he is everything!!

Oh, that’s his name. Ed Sheeran. He looks like the friendliest celeb, though reality TV can be deceiving. He seems like the type of guy I could sit, have coffee, and joke around with for hours. Except I don’t drink coffee, and he’s a celebrity, so that would never happen. Also, he has the prettiest hair. And an accent that just makes me want to say pretty things to him. Or better yet, have him say pretty things to me. It doesn’t have to be fancy. He can read the laundry instructions for all I care. I just want  to hear that gloriously beautiful accent.

I like his early music. I know I have all the songs and LPs, but I haven’t heard them all, because I keep playing the same ones over and over again. Notably, the one in the video up there. iTunes tells me I’ve played it 246 since July. There are a few others I like. Give me love. I’m  a mess. Afire love. One night. Don’t. Be like you. Drown me out. But I inevitably come back to seeing fire. And that guy who raps on drown me out, he can read laundry as well. Or even just a list of bus stops. Really. Issorite. As long as I hear the accent. Sigh.

As I read more and more about Ed, I found that his (alleged) personality is as fun as his music. Lots of interesting stories you can Google for yourself. He did hook up with Pharell in the end though. And Jaime Foxx. I don’t like either of them, but I don’t fault the boy. Had to take his career to the next level and all that.

I just find it interesting that the two songs everybody loves – and the two songs that I don’t – are the ones done with Jaime Foxx and Pharell. And it’s at this point I feel really old, because while I’m busy going goo-goo over Ed, my baby is loving this fabulous new song by ‘Pharell and Someone’. *facepalm* Yes. This song. By Pharell and ‘someone.’ And to think this is my blood! *Bangs head on desk* Again, sorry Ed.

♫ Be like you ♫ Ed Sheeran ♫

♫ There are so many parts that I have hidden and denied and lost. There are so many colours that I still try to hide while I paint. There are so many tunes that I secretly sing as I wait. There were so many times I thought I’d die not being truly known. You come along and invite these parts out of hiding. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for getting me. I’m healed by your empathy. ♫

Lyrics from a song by Alanis. No, all her songs are not angstious rants. In this album, she seems to have found a happy place, shock-shock! Anyway, this song talks about how she changed herself in a quest for love, only to finally find a man that loved her exactly as she was. It’s a beautiful fairytale that I believed in for the longest time. And it’s one that I’ve seen come true, for others, if not for me. At least not yet.

A good friend once told me I’m immensely selfish. He said that when something doesn’t work for me, I simply walk away. I don’t stop to think of the damage I’ve caused by leaving, or the mess I’ve left behind. It took all my restraint not to roll my eyes and yell, ‘Duh!’ Why would I stay in a place that’s clearly not good for me? Of course what he didn’t say was that it used to take me months or even years before I chose to stuff it. Nowadays it takes me days, or even hours. Maybe that’s what upset him so much, my diminishing levels of tolerance. Or maybe it was a deep-seated fear that one day I’d get fed up and walk away from him. And eventually … I did.

I suppose I’m that kind of a person. I consider myself difficult, maybe even impossible. And I believe that in the end, everyone will walk away from me… that’s if I don’t leave them first. Reason being that there are parts of me no one will ever understand. I’d like to think I’m complex, even though some say I complicate myself. They say everyone is the same, and that seeing myself as unique is simplistic, arrogant, and just plain wrong. And in many ways, ‘they’ are right.

I have strange ideas about relationships. Or maybe I just think they’re strange. For example, I don’t believe in marriage, but I do want someone to love me enough to ask me. Of course if he does ask, I’ll just say no, which makes me sound like a sadist. Which I’m not. I think. I’m also not the wifing kind, unless it has a hyphen.

For the longest time, I didn’t think my ideal relationship existed. I didn’t think it was possible to find a man that’s just a little taller than me, who likes to cuddle and makes me laugh, who loves my daughter as his own, who doesn’t want any more kids, who doesn’t need me to change my name, who doesn’t do cows or in-laws, who doesn’t want to share my house, who doesn’t really like blow jobs, who has a healthy vibrant appetite for me, and who will love, respect, and be faithful to me. Always.

With time, I’ve learned to love myself, in every way, and to accept that men exist that want a girl like me. It helps to watch my friends, awesome girls who were told they’d never marry. Beautiful souls that were constantly told they were not wife material. Yet now I watch them with happy husbands and beautiful children. And they didn’t even have to wear a corset or shave their legs or wield mascara. They found perfectly good men who loved them exactly as they were. And that’s a beautiful, beautiful thing.

The funny thing is the universe. In the sense that the universe, or God, or cupid, is a funny thing. He/she/it brings you exactly what you’re looking for, especially when you don’t know that you’re looking for it. That’s why my friends found wonderful men when they didn’t even know they were searching. And me, I keep drawing the wrong kind of attention because deep down, I think that’s what I deserve.

See, if you want a certain kind of man, and you tell yourself that man doesn’t exist, then every other man you meet will prove it. And so in some strange, twisted way, I keep finding the kind of man that tells me I’m not a worthy woman. And I end up thinking no man could want me, because all of the ones I’ve dated felt that way.

Sometimes I binge myself on theory. For example, there are at least 7 billion people in the world. And at least 3 billion of them are men. So statistically speaking, there are at least 2,999,999,980 that haven’t dated me yet, and any one of them could be my type. Even if I take out the married ones, the gay ones, the church ones, the criminal ones, the sadist ones, and the weird ones, those are still some pretty good odds.

I’m also learning that love is all around us if we just look for it. It’s not all romantic love. I can have a beautiful life with my daughter, my brothers, my friends. I can be fulfilled, be beautiful, and feel loved even if I don’t find a man to call me baby. Of course I don’t always agree with this idea. There are moments during weddings, or on cold nights, or in mid-ovulation when it feels like being man-less is the worst. thing. ever. But then the hormones pass, the rice is thrown, I get an extra blanket, and all is fine again.

I believe that good men exist. And I am charmed every time I see the men in my girls’ lives treat them right. Salute to R, who married my girl even though he was convinced she was incapable of housework. Hats off to C, who makes his wife happy each time he helps her spray paint a bottle with glitter. Three cheers to L who compliments his lovely bride while she labours with her natural hair. Kudos to F who supports his wife’s high-flying career and helps her be the hotshot that she is.

And a special heartfelt blessing to all the men that choose to remain faithful to their wives, even when the rest of womanhood is throwing evil, envious, and immensely luscious body parts in their direction. No woman can keep a man. Not Halle Berry. Not Cleopatra. Not even Hellen of Troy. Your man has to decide to stay with you. And as I watch the good men of the world, the ones I know belong to other hearts, I thank them, and honour them, for the comfort and pleasure they bring into those women’s lives. Maybe one day, I’ll find mine.

♫ Nothing compares to you ♫ Sinead O’connor ♫