I’m stumped. Utterly stumped.

And this might make me sound full of myself or something, but I am truly surprised over this. I mean, how often is it that people don’t recognize me?

We met last night at a club, per usual, but not in a ‘drunken hookup then part ways without ever knowing each other’s name’ way. No, we actually met pretty early on in the night just by crossing paths at the bar. We got to talking, spent the rest of the evening having some drinks and pretty much ditching our own groups, and eventually ended up back at your place.

Then we hooked up.

Except now, the next day after I woke up to you cooking us a late breakfast, I realized something.

You don’t know who I am.

It’s a little confusing, but also a little funny, if I’m honest. Tour just ended a few weeks ago and I intended to just kinda lay low in London for a bit before the work started all over again. But now….now I kinda like you.

“What did you say that you do?” I ask curiously, breaking the comfortable silence as I glance next to you on the couch next to me while we eat. If I’m lucky, maybe I can figure how in the world you live under such a rock that you don’t know who I am.