In a new weekly feature, Her.ie goes behind enemy lines to see what it’s really like to be single in Ireland.
From speed dating to making speedy escapes, our no-holds-barred blog will follow one girl’s attempts to venture into the dating jungle, play the field and share any wisdom that she finds along the way!
Week Five: Stranger Danger
In Ireland, we rely on alcohol to form many of our social connections. From bonding with new colleagues over a pint to easing those first date nerves with a glass of wine, a few drinks can turn awkward strangers into the best of friends, or maybe more.
Unfortunately, as with most things, moderation is key…as my friend Gráinne and I found this out in the most mortifying of ways last weekend.
After a tough working week, we decided to hit the town on Friday night and took in some live music in the city centre. The venue was packed and rather than shuttling back and forth through the hoards to the bar every five minutes, Gráinne thought it would be a great idea to just go on doubles and save ourselves some hassle. I, in my infinite wisdom, agreed that this was the most clever concept she had come up with since strapping a naggin to her thigh back in our college days.
A few hours later, we bumped into a very cute guy who invited us to join him and his mates at a private party in the same venue. Without any other plans to hand, we happily agreed and as it subsequently turned out that Very Cute Guy (VCG) was also really interesting, I spent most of the night drunkenly discussing music, poetry and possibly the meaning of life with him while Gráinne made friends with every single one of the bar staff.
So far, so good. Unfortunately, this is where memory fails to serve us.
I woke up the following morning with a banging headache and while climbing my way to the kitchen for a ‘will cure everything’ cuppa, discovered a man’s coat at the end of my bed.
Two words: THE FEAR!!!!!!!
Since I had evidently forgotten to bring the man home with his clothing, I quickly text Gráinne to see if she could fill in the blanks of the antics that had gone on the night before. However, as it turns out, she was as useful as a one-legged man in a kicking contest as she simply replied with the words ‘STRANGER DANGER’.
It transpired that Gráinne had stopped for chips on the way home and somehow managed to end up in bed with a fella who had also had a craving for a durty cheeseburger. Suffering temporary amnesia the following morning, she wandered back from the toilet wracking her brains for her paramour’s name but to no avail. Seeing a stack of post inside the door, she quickly let out a sigh of relief but it was short-lived, as there were letters to both ‘Larry’ and ‘Keith’. The former sparked some recognition so she trotted back in and had the banter with her mystery man.
Unfortunately, her 50/50 gamble went down like a donkey in the Grand National, as Himself called out to his flatmate ‘Larry, there’s a girl here looking for you!’. While he took it in good humour, Gráinne could handle no more humiliation and made a quick exit!
Meanwhile, halfway through my hungover breakfast, I got a Twitter message from a fella who my addled-brain instantly recognised as VCG.
It read like this: “Hey, it’s VCG from last night. Listen I was just wondering if you brought my jacket home last night? No worries if you did, it’s just that I really need it. My keys are in it!’
Yup, I had just left a very promising guy homeless in Dublin…and probably very cold as well. Ground. Swallow. Me. Now.
Long story short, I arranged to come face to face with VCG to return his jacket and make several profuse apologies for behaviour the night before. With a face as red as Satan’s rear end, I admitted that I hadn’t a clue what had transpired the night and he explained that he had gone to the toilet and returned to find that not only had I disappeared but also had his jacket. MORTO.
As it turns out, VCG was a sound fella who instantly accepted my apologies, engaged in a little chat and even gave my mortally embarrassed self a hug before we parted ways but it’s fair to say that I had probably extinguished any spark that may have previously burned.
After a long weekend of self-loathing, I think we’ve just about recovered from our experiences but take our advice folks: Enjoy drink responsibly…if you don’t want to die alone!
