Ok!!! I'll admit it. I'm a stalker. Fcuk.

I don't mean to do it...it's just in me.

It's crossed my mind a couple of times. Just seeing where J lives. See if he lives humbly, just like the rest of us...or does the suburb he mentioned where he lives looks as perfumery as he made it sound to be.

His street name, which I looked up on the White Pages was quite funny. Let's just say that it sounds like a Chinese prostitutes name, so I figured, he must live humbly. The fact that I've looked up his name on the Pages once again suggests that I've got stalker blood in me. Fcuk.

So I looked it up in google maps. And voila. His suburd is right near the beach. What does that say? Beach...mah gawd. Only the rich folks gets to live near the beach. In Sydney anyways. Well we lived near the beach for years up north. We weren't exactly rich. So who's to say?

And then today came. My sister needed a lift to the airport which is kinda on the way where J lives. Time for revelations. I needed to breathe. I needed to see. I needed to know.

J lives near Bexley. A suburd almost an hour away from where I live. Towards the east, you could say near yet not so near the airport. The name itself conjures of images of nice beach houses. I fear for the worst.

After 25 minutes of driving around, night has fallen. It was a little difficult to find house numbers in the dark. Luckily, I've had plenty of practise as I was a Diether Ocampo in the past and delivered pizza for Pizza Hut in our area.

I entered the street. I had to take another deep breath. I wasn't really quite sure what I am expecting. Why the curiosity? Why the need to know everything about him?

The suburb was hilly and was full of tall old thick trees. I passed a bridgelike kinda road which held only one car at a time. Odd. I've never seen one of those before? The houses varied from one storey flat houses to huge massive ones. At the beginning of his street lay old bricked house, no different from the houses where I lived. A sigh of relief? Also here, they had small bins for Monday pick-ups, whilst we've swayed more to the bigger ones. A sign of wealth? I beg to argue.

I squinted my eyes to the number the first house presented. It was the number 3. Fcuk. As far as my investigation goes, he lives in an even number way above the 50s.

So I drive and drive. Small house, small house, small bricked house. *phew* I have nothing to fear after all...well until...

Until I crossed an intersection. And vaboommmmm...huge looking Italian houses popped out of nowhere. WTFcuk???

I calm my heart. Surely, he must live at the other end of the humblier side of town. In a house where I wouldn't feel threatened by his upbringing. Where his princessness won't get in the way of our future relationship. Where we could be us and no materialism would distract us from our views. The way he described his father, well, maybe he's not that well off. Well...until...

Until I crossed to another intersection where the shops laid. There was a nice nifty shop that was starting to display their Christmas wares. I love nifty shops like that. So unique and so full of new ideas per season. It must be a wealthy kind of area to have shops like that. All we have in our area our Indian stores as novelties.

I pass a house and it bore the number 94. Shite. I've passed his house 20 houses ago.

I do a U-wy and drive back to the wealthy area of the street where the houses looked like Italian mansions. My heart palpitates once more.

I get even more nervous as I pass a house full of lights. Shite. People are walking out. That could be his house and they've just had a small party with the relos. I breathe a sigh of relief as I saw the people that dwelled in that house. They looked like Italians. He's not Italian. (though he could pass as one). I search for the number from the well lit mansion. It was 76.

And there and then, my heart dropped as I realised what street number he possessed. Yes folks...it was the house right next door.

And it's a fcuking mansion.

My future husband lives in a mansion! With big windows, a big backyard that's nicely renovated and nicely secured with strong modern fences. The modern door was twice the size of our house door. They had a big living room upstairs with open windows right where the people could see. It was modern, magnificent and my heart fell...

I can't believe the bastard is loaded.

Just as he looks. Which explains the trip to Greece. The exclusive school. Almost everything.

I don't quite know how to handle this...