How Does This Keep Happening?

It's Friday night which can mean only one thing: hockey. I head to the bar after our game and am having a few beers with my teammates. One of my teammate's friends is a cute guy from Colombia and we hit it off. He asks for my number and I figure "why not?" I even agree to give him a ride to the metro - what can I say? I'm a very generous person. Colombian man saunters off to talk to some other people and I'm left at a table with the opposing team.

O'Brien tells us he needs to go compliment a random dude on his hair. We all exchange glances like “whaaaa?” but it’s probably just that O’Brien has hair-envy. He’s bald. A minute later he’s back with the man and says to everyone “doesn’t he have incredible hair?” I’m caught off-guard because that is NOT the only incredible thing this man has. Holy shit. He’s gorgeous. Not only does he have rockstar hair but he has intense blue/green eyes, an eyebrow piercing, long eyelashes and nice lips. THEN he opens his mouth. He has an AUSTRALIAN accent. Be still my heart. Somehow it comes out that he’s there meeting the bartender who also plays guitar. Stop. It. He plays guitar! It’s over.

Colombian man is looking at me from across the room and is trying to get my attention. He’s ready to leave. Crap. I say to Craig, Mr. Aussie, that I’d love to see him again but don’t know how to give him my number without being awkward. He pulls out his phone and instructs me to keep talking while he holds his phone under the table. Nice. Whew. I give him a knowing smile and walk out of the bar.

You may remember Colombian man from this previous post: http://flingstress.blogspot.com/2012/03/are-you-kidding-me.html He's the key snatcher. Anyway. Back to Craig.

He calls me that night and leaves a delicious voicemail in his delicious aussie accent. We make plans to jam at my apartment a few nights later. He lives kind of far away in Fredericksburg but says he doesn't mind driving to see me.

He shows up at my door…

I racked my memory for any piece of conversation where he might have mentioned his wife to me. Fair enough there were moments where time stood still and I just got lost in those ridiculous eyes... but c'mon. I would've remembered that! Worse yet – his wife was AT the bar the night we met! That's why he was more than happy to hold his phone under the freakin' table. What are men thinking?!

Final thought: he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. My friend’s fiancé (also an aussie named Craig coincidentally) recently told her that he doesn’t want to wear a ring. He says there are loads of guys who don’t. I agree. They’re called cheaters.

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…

From Ireland with Love Part I

A friend recently asked me why I hadn’t updated my blog. He asked me if I had been “tamed.” HA! I scoffed. Not to fear, friends! I am still single and manpaging it up.

One reason for the delay? I took a month-long trip to Ireland. By myself. After my break up I had a strange desire to go to Ireland. I can’t tell you why. Wait, that’s a lie. What’s better to heal the heart than gorgeous, strapping men with delicious accents? I thought to myself “It’ll be like P.S. I Love You without all the death.”

I didn’t have it planned really… I knew vaguely some of the places I wanted to visit but I purposely left it open-ended so I could have the freedom to roam. My first week there was spent on a bike. As in, I rented a bicycle from a company and they gave me some maps and basically said “good luck!” There were two other crazy people doing the same thing as me but I had no idea who they were. What if they didn’t want to hang with me? What if they were old and boring? Worse still, what if they were newlyweds and would send daggers through my heart with their nuptial bliss?

Sometimes the universe helps you out. Kat and Jackie are two of the most interesting, incredible, compassionate and fun people I’ve ever met. They’ve been married for 14 years and yes, they’re lesbians. Although to be fair, with bike clothes on – and me wearing a bandana most of the time – it was tough to tell which one was not like the others.

It’s exactly what I needed… to be around a couple who are truly meant to be together. I felt overwhelmed with gratitude to NOT have married the wrong person. Kat told me I needed to find my “Jackie” – someone that complements your areas of strengths and weaknesses. Unless she was insinuating I start dating women. Hmmm... I’m not *quite* there yet.  

Okay, all of this soul-searching is nice and all. But what about the Irish men?! Ha. You just want the dirty details. I get it. Here we go:

Number of make outs: 7

Number of times I was proposed to: 4

Number of pints of Guinness consumed: 104

Number of nights singing and playing guitar: 16

Number of pictures of puffins: HUNDREDS


Number of hearts broken: too many to count


Number of hearts healed: 1