Did I Just Waste A Ryanair Flight?

I’m so annoyed.

I stared this piece in my head about 4 times already but every time I started back at a new start because I didn’t get a chance to make notes.


The last one was as I was making dinner – I know it was good and I can’t get it out of my head – and I can’t get it back either.

Which is incidentally very funny because this is all about things not getting out of heads and not getting things back.


It may surprise you to know that I am a huge romantic – in my own way. I believe in love. I love love. And I do want it.

I’m not romantic in any soft, or saccharine way. Possibly not even in a general nice way – I’m not able to take it. Christ, I’m not even able to take general compliments –I’m wholly mistrusting of them depending on where they come from. Some of this is down to being Irish* some of this is down to harsh experience and just being more comfortable when we keep it at a level I know I can take –  namely, filth. But mostly my inability to take any one at face value is bashfulness dressed up as toughness. I’m sorry if I pissed you off when you were trying to be nice C. And J, thank you for getting it, and for your continued patience.

(Shameless apologies to people who won’t ever see this)


So I do want love and I do rate it. But like so many coffees that I chuck down the sink, if I’m going to have it, I’m going to have it properly – good and strong and with the power to give me heart palpitations and rip the stomach out of me – and if you’re going to have something that has the potential to do you enormous damage – well it better be good while it lasts.

I tend to give anyone with an ounce of potential more than a good shot. But I won’t waste my time on something that I know has nowhere to go.

I put myself out there. I get broken, I pick myself up and I try to start again.

Like a fucking eejit I just can’t kill that side of me. Maybe that’s a good thing, as hard as I want to be…. I’m just not able.


I blocked him from my phone (you can do that with iPhones) I blocked him from whatsapp  – he wouldn’t be able to blithely text or message me when it dawned on him that he missed me.

He said so much in his parting voicemail (yup, voice mail)

So it’s the 4 weeks later, his life has settled and he needs to get in contact with me. But how? Well honestly he could have just emailed or if he really meant business he could have called me at work, on the desk phone, wouldn’t have been able to ignore that.

He did neither.

He started liking my photos on Instagram. WTF? I rarely use it but had been posting the odd pic here and there, this ramped up when I minded my parents’ new puppy for a weekend. I knew everyone wanted puppy shots and Instagram was the easiest way.

And he started liking all of them. Until I caved and had to ask him what the fuck he was playing at.

I unblocked him and a phone call ensued.


I won’t get into it because the minutiae of it would bore the holes off you. And that’s not really my point anyway. My point is to tell you how shocked and somewhat frustrated I am and not for the reasons that you might think.

I rang him, ostensibly to ask him to cease and desist – we weren’t friends, what was he playing at. And of course his explanation started with the ever hackneyed ‘I miss you’ moving on to the classic, ‘I can’t stop thinking about you’.  Building up to the inevitable ‘Just come see me’.

Now I already know that I’ve still got a flight booked to go see him, it was booked a month ago when everything was still blissful. And I also know that it won’t take much persuasion for me to get on that flight. This boy is after all pretty fucking spectacular in the leaba. And sure I’m only mad for making mistakes…..

But I’m not totally insane.


We talk in circles, he at least has the smarts to let me say my piece. I managed to get off my chest how annoyed I was, how hurt I was that I was so casually discarded and how confused I was as I thought that we had a good lil thing going.  But the main theme from him now is ‘Please, just come see me and we can see’


Well that was it right there. The switch flipped. Fantasies of having a blissful and spectacular weekend in Northern England started to dissolve and reality started punching me in the face.

What exactly will we just see?

What exactly will I be doing if I come over to you?

My ire is growing. Because I’m just incapable of accepting that this is what’s happening. I mean, it can’t be?

Surely there’s no way that he’s suggesting that I spend a weekend with him and that we can just ‘see how it goes’? No, that cannot be what’s going on here.




What is it that he needs to figure out? What is it about me that he isn’t sure about? What key piece of info is he so desperately missing that he feels he still needs to ascertain to be able to make a decision about being in a relationship with me? I am frankly fucking flabbergasted????

He knows me almost a full year.


Now relax. I’m not saying that we know enough to get married and have kids and for one of us to move country. I’m just saying that there is enough history there and there is certainly more than enough working knowledge to know if we think we have something.

I sure as hell know my answer to that.


And I couldn’t give a flying fuck if this scares him or it’s too much. YOU CHASED ME.

As far as I’m concerned, you know enough dickhead. I’m not asking for your life, I’m not asking for anything and if you don’t know by now that I’m probably worth the effort that this (actually short) long distance thing requires then I probably can’t convince you.

And I’m not going to try.



I’ve told him to make me an offer because as I said at the start, I want this, I want it with this boy and I will put the effort in. So I’ve asked him to come back in a few days. Tell me what he’s willing to do, what he’s looking for and what he wants in exchange.

And if it’s anything less than balls out, I’m totally yours, let’s ride this train til we tear each other apart or live happily ever after – well then. Ryanair can keep my money. I had written it off with last month’s pay cheque anyway.



I also said that I’m not insane – the definition is allegedly doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I hope that’s not what I’m doing.




*Tell a French girl she looks good and she’ll say ‘But of course’

Tell an American girl she looks good and she’ll say ‘Thank you’

Tell an Irish girl and she’ll punch you in the arm and tell you to fuck off.

This is wholly accurate. I don’t know why this is bred into us but it is. See also this. It’s genius and the ad agency who created it are spot on. (do have a peek, it’s 30 seconds and should make you laugh. At us. Irish people) https://youtu.be/T013exV1RFg

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