I found a picture the other day of the current and former members of Weezer at Rivers Cuomo’s wedding. I’m having a hard time believing that the man I whole-heartedly wished to marry, from the time I was 12 until almost current times, is forever off the market.

Now, I know what most of you are or should be thinking:

A. “Emily, Rivers Cuomo is the lead singer of a very popular rock band. He’s in his mid-thirties. You never stood a chance.”

True, true, and true, but I’m a dreamer. I didn’t want to actually believe that some other woman could earn the love of the beautiful and talented Rivers Cuomo.

It was my dream to let Rivers bathe in the spotlight for I don’t know, fifteen years, and then, when he met me after I graduated and became a rock journalist, we would elope and go sledding down British hills in a bathtub together.

B. “Emily, Rivers Cuomo is crazy. He once spent 48 hours in a room painted black, continuously bouncing a rubber ball. Does that sound like someone who is happy?”

No, definitely not.

But I made myself believe that given the opportunity to meet Rivers, I could show him the way to happiness. I am not talking about a spiritual journey, but more along the lines of ‘I’m going to make Rivers Cuomo the happiest he’s ever been because I have that power,’ or something like that.

Then, it occurred to me that I am probably the crazy one. Though to be fair, I haven’t had a fantasy or dream about Rivers Cuomo for over a year.

I even forgot his birthday this year, which is totally out of character for me, as I was always sure to send him a happy birthday line on some random message board that he probably never reads.

When I was really young, I somehow believed that I had his actual e-mail address and screen name. It was something like Weezer711. I used to write to him and tell him how if he decided to tour in Cincinnati, he could stay at my parent’s place for free.

What a deal.

I’ll never forget the first time I heard a Weezer song. I was at my aunt’s house, and my cousins and I were eating burgers. “The Sweater Song” came on and I was instantly obsessed. This was in 1994. I would have been ten.

My first chance to see Weezer was in high school. They were on tour for the Green album, which I never really did get into even though I own both the American and British versions of it. I worked at O’Charleys at the time as a hostess and I would tell anyone who would listen about my little infatuation. Well, I ended up telling this creepy 32-year old dude named Greg. As it turns out, he only had the courage to talk to women who were half his age. I turned on my sweet 16-year old charm and Greg got us two Weezer tickets for their show in Columbus. I wanted to go so much, but my mother said no because it was a school night. She was unaware that the alcoholic regular at O’Charleys was planning on taking me.

I remember telling some friends how I was going to climb out the bedroom window and run away to Columbus, maybe drop out of high school and just stay on tour with Weezer for the rest of my life. They affirmed that this was, if not the craziest, the worst idea I ever had.

No matter how hard I yearned to see Weezer perform live, I definitely didn’t want to end up on the side of the road somewhere between Cincy and C-bus, with a plastic Kroger bag over my head. So I had to let Greg down easy, “It’s a school night, and my mom doesn’t let me go to shows on school nights.”

However, my naive flirting did not go to waste, and Greg came back a few days later with a souvenir from the show – a black baby doll T-shirt with gold letters that spelled out the band’s name.

It wasn’t until last May that I actually got to attend a Weezer show. My friends and I drove to Detroit to see them. We stood right by the stage; I could practically catch River’s sweat in my water bottle.

I didn’t get to actually meet any of them. I don’t even know what I would have said to Rivers. Probably something stupid and teeny-bopperish such as, “You guys, like, rock.”

I have a way with words, sometimes.

I’m really over my band obsessions these days. Sure, I still enjoy listening to music, especially Weezer. I even sang a wonderful rendition of “Say It Ain’t So” last week at karaoke.

But honestly, I have come to the realization that musicians are just people, and none of them are too good for me or anyone else.

I don’t really care that Rivers is married now. In fact, I’m sort of glad because maybe now, future girls will not behave as crazily as I did for some lead singer who isn’t even their type.

Send comments to Emily at [email protected].