If I’m Going Down – I’m Taking Prisoners

I know the rules. Sit down, open laptop, write. That’s it. Just open and do it.

Unfortunately that’s what I’ve had to do this week – force it. But some good stuff comes of that … sometimes.


I’m holding back from some aspects, because I don’t want to talk about the break up, and I’m not having any actual sex so nothing inspirational there. And weirdly, when I’m not having sex it makes it hard for me to remember when I was having sex and what that was like…. (except for the last guy, brain is filled with flashes of him but I’ve now referenced him twice and that’s two more than he deserves)

So I’ll just have to talk about what’s going on right now.

Well two things, funnily enough. One, I have invited a friend to Dublin. A male friend who I’ve known for years. And two, I joined OkCupid.


Both mine fields and I’m not sure that they have anything in common. (I’m sure you amateur psychologists can read right through the lines there). Starting with The Friend, what’s so minefield-y about inviting someone over for a weekend? It’s a loaded invite. There is an implication that there might be sex.

I’ve known him for a long time, maybe 10 years, but I wouldn’t say we’re close. We’re certainly not independent friends – independent of the people we know each other through. I don’t see him every time I visit but I would see him about twice a year. We’ve probably always gotten on. I’ve probably always known that he liked me. Nothing has ever been said, it was never overt it just always was there. An apt description of it would be more akin to him always pulling my hair, school ground style.

All my plans for this weekend have been cancelled and I don’t want to spend the weekend thinking of what I was supposed to be doing. And with whom. So when The Friend drunkenly asked could he come over, offered to lend an ear, an elbow and a …. willing member, should I be in need of one, well, I thought about it. I know that I should have said no. I know that I am being selfish and I know that this is probably not going to end well.

But probably not for me.

And I deserve derision from anyone who chooses to serve me with it.


But let’s just look at all the facts a second. He’s a grown man, he knows what he’s getting into and he has assured me of that. I have, for my part made my emotional state crystal clear; wounded, smarting, disappointed and disillusioned, starting something with someone in another country is nothing I have any interest in. I couldn’t care less about anyone else’s heart right now. I just want a partner in crime for the weekend, someone I can obliterate myself with, who I know is good craic, who I can probably trust.

Who I am very sure I am not going to fall in love with.

It’s. Safe.


But what of the fall out? Well, yes, I have briefly considered that. If we somehow manage to fuck this right up then it will be so easy to avoid each other. I’m not worried about that. I don’t think our friendship is that big a deal. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t either.

Also, how much damage can be done in one weekend? He’s hardly going to fall in love with me. And I know I certainly won’t.



What I am actually worried about (now that flights are booked and there is no backing out) is what am I going to do with someone I’ve never spent time alone with – if I’m not going to have sex with them?

Since I said yes last Sunday I’ve realised that besides rugby and running – I have no idea what he might like? So I’ve been trying to think of things for us to do – besides of course drinking ourselves round town and eating ourselves into a coma. Because I can’t really offer him rugby or running*.

After I started worrying about that I started worrying about loads of other things. Big things, little things and of course, the only thing. What about the sex?

What if I’m not able? What if it’s rubbish? What if he’s one of those guys who’s shit with condoms? Will he expect me to have sex without one? What if his skills are fine but there’s no chemistry and I just can’t come? What if we manage it once but I don’t want to do it again – how do I get out of that after I drunkenly told him last week that my sexual appetite was enormous….

Oh God.

What. Have. I. Done?


These are the things I will do when I need to erase someone from my memory. It seems like a great idea to fill my head with other stresses and other worries. And if I’m busy cringing about a mistake I’ve made, well at least that’s better than pining over someone.

To my credit, it’s not the worst logic.

But it’s possibly not the healthiest thing to do either, it’s just the only think I know how to do in this situation. And I’m cognisant that I’m possibly dragging an innocent down with me this time.



I will keep you posted.



*yes I’m aware that the Heineken Cup Final is on this Saturday but it’s two French teams that I have no connection to and have very little interest in watching. He’s of the same mind.




Now, weirdly in the same week I somehow decided that I would join OkCupid. I set up a profile and answered nearly all their 1 billion questions. Man, some of them are saucy. In fact a lot of them are saucy. And not needless to say, my mug actually garnered a lot of responses. Way more than I was expecting. And a right load of sleaze and tragedy.

It took a while to get the thing set up – mainly because I was answering questions for over an hour but as I did, message after message came in. I had done nothing more than post one pic of myself, sat back (although I didn’t realise I was doing that) and the missives arrived. I hadn’t searched for anyone or looked at any matches but I was being contacted. This must be what it felt like to have a full dance card in the 1800’s.

As amusing as this was it was also draining and time sapping. I need to just ignore everyone I knew I was not compatible with i.e. as clearly stated on the profile residing in Dublin was the top priority and yet was still contacted by guys in America and the UK.

Not to mention the sleaze. There was and still is quite a bit of it coming through. I know I could cut half that out by removing my jokey references to sex. (I’d detail them here for you but what if one of you happened upon my profile? Can you imagine the horror?) But for some reason I’m reluctant to do that. I really don’t want to hide myself. I also think that if someone can see it, understand the joke and not judge me? Well I could be on to a winner.


So. There was a date less than 24hrs after the sign up. It was one drink. I got no physical body language signs. I could tell nothing by the end of it. But he was funny and clever and our liberal outrage politics seem to be aligned and he was surprised that I wasn’t aware he was looking for date two. I’ll say it again – he gave me no real signs, no clue that he was into me. And I aint useless at this game!


So I agreed to another date. On this project I will also keep you posted.




I may not be ready for any of this. I sure as hell am not over the last boy. But I’m sure as hell not going to sit at home crying over it either.





More damage, more destruction, more casualties. Line ‘em up – literal and metaphorical.

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