Here comes that feeling again.....

This week I started planning my move to Melbourne. To be honest, I'm scared witless about the whole thing. Everyone keeps asking me if there is anyone I know over there- and yes there are a few friends that now live over there- but none I'd want to mooch off of for a few months while I find my feet.

But there's also someone else living there....

To tell this tale (probably one of the few deep regrets I have in my life) we have to go back to 1998. I was 24. I was the rehearsal pianist for Mayfair's brilliant production of "Sweeney Todd"- it was how I first met Tim Sexton. It was also where I first met Rochelle.

Originally she was just going to be in the chorus, but then our original Johanna had to pull out and Rochelle became the new one. She was inexperienced, an ok singer....and absolutely drop-dead, gob smackingly beautiful. Both physically and mentally.

Of course, being the rehearsal pianist I had to spend a lot of time with Rochelle while she learnt her part. Oh how I ached to hear the magic phrase from Tim- "Rochelle, let's work on your bits while we have a moment".

I should say that I was a total professional. I assumed she had some boyfriend tucked away somewhere so I just thought "Ok Rodney, read your music, do your job...it'll pass". It didn't. Then after one rehearsal she came over to me and hugged me and said "I'm glad you're playing". I was a jibbering mess. What I meant to say was "Why thanks Rochelle, that's really sweet of you". What came out was a new language- I think it was a hybrid of Swahili and Mandarin Chinese. She laughed. I laughed. She left. I had to start breathing again.

For the next two weeks or so I tried to be more social with her, all the while reminding myself that this woman was more than likely off the market, when during a conversation she casually mentioned that she hadn't had a boyfriend for a couple of years. That mysterious language I created? Yup, came back again.

Now before I continue on here, I should point out that I have never been that lucky with the ladies. I don't really know why. If I was being brutal to myself I could say it's because I'm a fat, ugly git. I don't think too many women think of me like that but I'm pretty certain none have seen me and immediately thought "hubba hubba" (or words to that effect). I have never found it easy to talk to attractive women. For some reason I get very self-conscious and as a result I probably come across as either a try-hard or desperate. Or both.

But with Rochelle it was different. I was worse. I seriously could not string two sentences together. I was so damn in love with this girl that it totally and utterly screwed with my mind. It was the first time I was truly in love. I didn't realise this until about halfway through the rehearsal period when I found myself watching her every move and just hoping and praying she would spend some time with me. It was pathetic.

I'm glad I don't have a TARDIS- or some other time travel device- because to see me act like that would be embarrassing. I honestly have no idea if the rest of the cast (which included her brother by the way) noticed it.

One night I had to ring her brother (honestly!) and she picked up the phone. We talked for over an hour. Anyone that has called me on the phone will know what an absolute miracle that was. I soon convinced myself that she was, at the very least, open to going out on a date with me. All I had to do was ask. So I started to psych myself up.

Days turned into weeks and soon the season was upon us. I could see the window of opportunity rapidly disappearing. Oh I'd love to tell you that I summoned up the courage to ask her out. But I didn't. The only thing we ever did together was go and see B*Witched together at the Saturn Nightclub (It was promo thing- I won two tickets on the radio). No dinner, no coffee afterwards. Just the show, a hug goodbye and that was it.

You sad, sad, sad, pathetic man.

But the worst was still to come for my already fragile psyche.

She auditioned for State Opera and didn't get in. I'll never forget the email she sent- "I didn't get in. that does it! I'm moving to Melbourne!". And she did.

"That's ok," thought I, "I'm sure she'll keep in contact". Well she did for a little while. And then she told me about her new boyfriend she met over there. My heart sank. The final nail came when I rang her and her boyfriend picked up the phone and hadn't realised it had connected to me- "It's Rodney" he said. "Oh...hmmm....he can leave a message" came her response. That was a conversation I wish I hadn't heard. I silently hung up the phone and slunk away to my bedroom. I listened to Mahler- as I often do when I'm depressed- and even the beauty and majesty of his music failed to lift my spirits. For a very long time I couldn't even bring myself to say her name for fear of losing it completely.

What if I'd actually grown a pair and asked this girl out? What if we'd become a couple? Would we have moved to Melbourne together? Would we have moved in together here? Marriage? Kids? God only knows.

I'd love to tell you all that I learnt from that experience but I really didn't. In fact I think it burnt it into my psyche that I'm simply not able to ask anyone out.

I don't have very many regrets in my life, but that is by far one of the biggest.

Somewhere in Melbourne she's living with her husband (yes she got married a few years later) and, presumably, kids. She probably doesn't even remember me now. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.

I think it is....