“Who’d Have Known” never charted in the US for Lily Allen, and probably only got noticed in the UK for lifting the entire chorus riff from a Take That song. But it may be the best account I’ve ever heard of the earliest days of first falling in love with somebody. Not just in the lyrics, but in the delivery – you can practically hear the involuntary smile behind “and today you accidentally called me ‘baby’ ” – and in the overall tone, reflecting those first days when you’re supremely conscious that your world has twisted ninety degrees and things are not as they were.
The thing you keep falling back to is that this is the new reality – that this person next to you is not a figment of your imagination, or a name in a chatroom, or a strange voice down the phone, but an actual tangible presence that can just as easily turn into a high-wire act, as you try to get to know them while simultaneously thinking “DON’T BOTCH THIS” and figuring out – who’s going to call? When? Morning and night or just email? How far ahead to schedule things? Couple that to the whole long-distance thing as mentioned yesterday and pretty soon you’re trying to land a 747 with three flaming engines on the deck of an aircraft carrier. In a blizzard.
But the thing is, you do it, because somehow, you know you can. New love is a stronger drug than crack, X, crystal meth, 18-year Bushmills and a national championship all rolled into one – it makes you think you’re twenty feet tall and can dodge bullets and walk through walls. And I think part of that is just from the alteration in your reality – well, as long as the world is topsy turvy, I’m going to lift this Buick over my head too…