Happy Ending

I'm listening to 'Happy Ending' by MIKA right now, which is possibly one of the best songs I've heard in a long long while. On a whim this evening, I thought - "Isn't he playing in London soon? Hmmm... Perhaps I'll buy tickets?" Unfortunately it looks like I'm a little too late for that, as his myspace page informs me that all his London shows, which (wait for it) aren't till December, are completely sold out!

I can't believe it. I am in so much pain. Not just because I think he is absolutely fantastic, but because if I hadn't been such a moody billy goat a few years ago, I would probably have been able to call him up 5 minutes ago and request tickets from him myself, instead of being forced to stage a dramatic mourning session in the middle of my living room for the benefit of my very irritated brother.

Five years ago, on a random school day, my friend Zozo (who you may or may not remember from my rendezvous with The Jigga Man) came to me, and asked me if one of the boys in her art class could paint me. At first I thought, "Uh... Why?" but then decided I'd hear him out. His name was Mica, and I had no clue who he was. I was new to a school that was smack bang in the centre of London, and all that was on my recently-liberated mind at the time, was hopping from club to club and shop to shop like some mad, energised bunny on heat!

So I went to the Art building, to meet this Mica. And in walked the skinniest boy I had ever seen! He had these huge eyes that kinda drowned out the rest of his face. His cheekbones were so high and so pronounced that he looked a little like a ghost, but a ghost with an exotic past life, if that makes any sense.

Anyway, Mica and I chatted for all of thirty seconds, in which I began to think that being painted by a lanky emaciated boy in the year above me, might not be such a bad idea. He then said that he wanted me to wear something specific whilst he painted me, and that he hoped I would like it. I can't remember exactly, but I think Zozo was also in the room, and she gave me this funny look that made me just a little apprehensive.

Mica walked into a side room, and then came back in holding what was, and still is, the smallest, tightest corset I had ever seen in my life. I gave him a look that implied that I thought he was retarded. First of all, there was no way I was going to be able to fit into that thing. And furthermore, there was no way I was going to stand in the middle of a very cold, very large room, wearing it on my not so toned, not so flab-free body, whilst this strange boy (who had made the corset by himself, with me in mind - I was flattered, but just slightly freaked out) painted me! I was pretty slim back then, but exercise was a very foreign, nay, alien, concept to me, and I much preferred to maintain the illusion that underneath my regulation-imposed school clothing was a fabulous, sculpted, trophy-worthy bod!

So I said "No" to Mica. And he looked like I had just destroyed him or something. He even sent his Art tutor to me a couple of days later to ask if I had changed my mind. Apparently the painting couldn't work without me, and it was going to play a huge part in his A-level portfolio.

Still, I said "No".

I never found out what became of his portfolio. I think in the end he used a girl in his year as his model. But even though our school wasn't exactly a gynormous one, I rarely saw him after that. I think he tended to keep a low profile, and I did so too at the time, so aside from one awkward "Hello" or the other when we walked past each other (like once a month) on our way to classes, I didn't speak to him again.

Anyway, before you get the wrong idea and walk away believing (as I may or may not have led you to believe) that this guy, who has now become a global superstar had some kind of unhealthy fixation with Oluwabitchyola, I think it would be best if I shared one teeny detail.

I was the only black girl at our school. And I was a black girl with very long, very sizzling black braids. I don't think it was me he wanted specifically, I think it was my skin colour, and my hair, and what he thought would contrast brilliantly against the corset and the backdrop he had created.

So if you were looking for a story that would have me gloating at the end, as having once been the object of desire of someone who now has a No. 1 under his belt, and who is probably the sexiest Rock god to hit the British Isles since Freddie Mercury, uh.... I'm afraid you will have to look elsewhere.
This and 'Love Today' are my absolute favourites. And 'Happy Ending' of course. It's so weird because even though I barely knew him, I am SO so happy for him!