It's because I had a dream about him; we were getting married (my dream self skipped the part where we get together, possibly because it was entirely too implausible). He was all long haired, scruffy and sporting a nice hat. His eyelashes were even more fantastic in (dream) person, his eyes mesmerising, and in my dream, only for me. Our wedding cake was tiramisu. We had only a small ceremony which I don't remember. I do remember that he sang a song he'd written just for me. I was warm, held close and loved. I've never felt quite so content.
And then I woke up.
Me and Kate who I work with had a giggle that my idea of dream perfection was not sexy times with said gorgeous man. It was a wedding, some tiramisu and a nice hat. This amuses me, but it also makes me worry for my subconscious.
Given that nothing short of a crazy miracle will bring myself and Mr Corby to the point where we might marry in the presence of Italian dessert, I've spent the day with a lingering unfulfilled yearning for more Matt in my life.
Skip to me purchasing his entire back catalogue on iTunes this afternoon (did you know how many EPs he has? Heaps), looking up his stats on wiki (age 22, seemingly single), lingering on google image searches (he has a tattoo on his upper left arm), reading his interviews (his stint on Australian Idol almost put him off performing forever! Gasp!) and joy of all joys, realising he has a tour coming up.
Perhaps my subconscious was just reminding me to buy tickets, and doesn't actually crave marriage and tiramisu.
I heart you Matt Corby. See you in October (even if you don't see me).