From Ireland With Love Part II

Kat, Jackie and I are making our way on bicycles through the western coast of Ireland and it’s honestly some of the most stunning scenery I’ve ever seen. Forrest Gump famously said “I couldn’t tell where the earth stopped and heaven began.” He obviously has been to Ireland.

On our fourth day of the ride we are headed from Clifden to Leenane. Don’t feel badly – you shouldn’t know where these places are. We see signs for a Mussel Festival and all three of us unanimously declare, “Yes, please!” We follow signs and eventually stop off in the small town of Letterfrack to get directions. A few kilometers later we are rewarded with the picturesque town of Tully Cross, tons of mussels and a few pints of mid-day Guinnesses.

Kat and I are sitting outside when a good-looking ginger exits the bar. Umm…. hello! Kat, who might even be more outgoing than I am (if that’s even possible) asks if I want her to go get him. I respond “Nah, I’m wearing bike clothes… not feeling too sexy.” Ginger man returns 5 minutes later carrying a guitar into the bar.  Kat and I exchange glances. GAME ON! We move through the pub to the beer garden where he’s setting up his equipment. I plant myself right in front of him.

I request “Leaving on a Jet Plane” by John Denver and he doesn’t know the words. He says he’ll play it if I come up and sing it. Little does he know that I’m *completely* shameless. I jump right up and belt it out. Jackie is busy snapping pictures (ah one of the many joys of travelling with professional photographers: they capture moments of you singing with ginger Justin Timberlake look-a-likes).

As we’re leaving the pub I hand him my email address and say “so my friend is a photographer and she got some great shots of us… so email me if you want them.” Totally casual. Ginger man turns bright red with one of the most endearing blushes I’ve ever seen.  I leave knowing there isn’t a chance I’ll hear from him given his shy reaction to my forwardness. Ah well. Can’t win ‘em all.

Three days later I say farewell to Jackie and Kat and take a 3 hour bus to Galway – a city in the middle of the Western coast known for its nightlife and music scene. I’m with a new friend from Portugal, Maria, at a traditional Irish pub called The Crane. We are talking about life, love and everything in between when guess who walks in the

Mother…

Fucking…

Door…

GINGER GUITAR MAN! Hundreds of miles away in a completely different city and he walks into the same freakin’ bar I’m in!!! What are the chances?? I mean, SERIOUSLY!  Okay, universe. I got your message loud and clear. I’m on it.

I walk right up to him and his eyes get wide. (Btw, I’m NOT in bike clothes and am looking *much* cuter this time) He stammers around apologizing for not emailing me yet and turns bright red. Again. Sooo sweet. I tell him “no worries! My friend and I are over there by the bar if you want to come say hi.” NBD, buddy. Totes casual. It’s how I do.

I excitedly tell Maria about my universe man but she is ready to leave the Crane. She’s not feeling the traditional Irish music and wants something more lively. Damn. I tell ginger guitar man (his name is Patrick) that we’re headed to Monroes should he and his friends care to join us. My heart is heavy as we walk away but I recognize that the universe can only do so much. At some point it's up to us.

No sign of Patrick at Monroes and Maria and I are getting a lot (mostly unwanted) attention so it’s time to go. We head to the Quays and there’s an awesome reggae rock band playing. We are drinking tequila infused beer (Maria’s idea, not mine) and bopping around to Rage Against the Machine, RHCP and Sublime. She’s getting tired and has been a rockstar even though she’s working in the morning. We put our coats on and are heading up the stairs when I hear “Jamie… Jamie…” I turn around and there he is.

Patrick.

He says “we went to Monroes but they were closing so we we’ve been bar hopping looking for you.” ::swoon::

We talk. We drink. We laugh. I go to the bathroom and on my way back I literally bump into a tall, brown and luscious man. I know immediately he’s Brazilian and after he hears me speak Portuguese it’s over. He’s in love. His name is Thiago. He is my type to a T. Tall… dark… handsome… foreign. He asks if he can join me. A little voice in my head is screaming that I have to choose. Brazilian man vs. ginger guitar man. SHIT.

The choice is obvious. I choose Patrick. I choose his pale skin, soulful eyes and auburn hair. I’m in Ireland for Pete’s sake. It starts to rain and he offers to walk me back to my bed and breakfast. He takes my umbrella and puts his arm around me. We walk, arms around each other, through the rain.

We get to my B&B and he’s blushing again. He finally just looks at me and says “Alright, I know I’m shy but I’m just going to go for it.” With that he kisses me. Pretty sure I melted right then and there. He lets the umbrella fall to the ground and we stand there kissing in the rain for what feels like hours.

What can I say? Ireland is the ideal location for your very own romantic comedy. Doesn't matter that he lives in Ireland and I'll probably never see him again. What matters is that we were living in the moment... that beautiful, spontaneous, rainy moment in Galway. What matters is that I feel healed. T'anks a million, Ireland... you've been grand.