Crazy is as crazy does ~

Today, Friday 28th April, was my last day in Circle K Ireland Terminal Group. 23 years working in Dublin Port. Over two decades working with men. Along comes a Yank and f$cks it all up! It was an emotional day today. Saying goodbye to "family". Receiving well wishes from everyone. Giving last minute advice. One or two just in case you need it emails. Organising files like a Mammy packing a schoolbag.. They had to throw me out in the end. I didn't want to go. How will they manage without me? They're men for God's sake!! But I left, and I didn't look back. Didn't want them to see my tears. I know they'll be fine without me. But I'll miss them. Men.

She's fine...

I had my leaving drinks party recently. I work with men. I’ve worked alongside them for the past 23 years. They are like family to me, so when f$cker knew I was going out with about 30 men and there would be drink involved I assured him there was nothing to be jealous about.

Long distance relationships are difficult, you have to make a real effort to keep up communications regularly. When I dropped himself at the airport that first time, I thought to myself well that was a nice holiday romance, last I’ll see of that f$cker. It wasn’t to be however. Time will tell he said, as he promised to keep in touch. Too fecking right he did, texts were incessant, calls were persistent and nudey pictures were… I’m joking!

It's not surprising we are where we are now, I don’t think we would have put as much effort into our relationship had we been in the same country. We know each other inside out and outside in.

So, when he tells me he’s not worried or jealous about me going out with 30 men for drinks, I know he’s a lying f$cker. It’s the same for me when he’s travelling for work. I insist on a photo when he gets back to the hotel to make sure he’s alone. I know it’s silly, as he can always hide the tramp under the bed or in the closet, but he sends me the photo anyway and I can sleep easy when it arrives at 2 or 3am Irish time.

“Have a fun time babe” he says through gritted teeth. I promise to text him and reassure him throughout the evening. And I did. I sent him a photo with one of the guys he knew and rolled my eyes at the reply “that’s a low-cut blouse wife” (polo neck). I possibly sent him one more text in between all the drinking, laughing and catching up with my mates. The night flew in and finally one of the lads stuck me in a taxi and I called the f$cker on my way home. My phone died midway.

Now I wouldn’t say he was frantic, more neurotic. He even sent a text to my friend in the West, like she was going to run up the road and search for me?? She did reply ~

“She’s fine. She’ll always be fine. It’s all ahead of you...”

The speed of life

You go through life at different speeds. My teens and twenties were fast, almost a blur. After hitting one or two speed traps in my mid to late thirties, I pegged down a gear, sometimes two.

Content cruising along in my forties until one day some f$cker came along with that same mischievous glint in their eye and you look at each other knowingly and start revving…

We broke a few rules and hearts getting to where we are now but when you know, you don’t care. All you want is that person, and you crave them, and they are all you can think about every millisecond of every day. This can happen at any age, ask the old f$cker.

F$cker, aka husband, a cocky Yank, found and stole my heart after a short stint in Ireland during the summer of 2021. Visits back and forth, fast forward a year and we were announcing our upcoming nuptials to a shocked family at the dinner table on New Years Day 2023. Two weddings later, one real one fake, revving…

Bike sold, van for sale, house for sale, moving to America, turtle staying, dog coming, no job, no money, no sense…

Full throttle!