F+ in Foreign Relations

I guess I sort of knew I wasn’t going to stay in Ireland forever. Now it’s easy for me to say, but I think at the time I was okay with moving there for him, after all what else was I going to do? When we started out I wouldn’t even let him call me his girlfriend until the night before my parents flew to Ireland and wanted to meet him. He’d convinced me that my parents and his parents would ask and it’d just be easier. Suddenly I went from having an exciting fling to some serious stuff. His parents loved me and my parents loved him, but that was great for awhile, until I didn’t want it anymore. At least we got a good two years in before that happened. The long distance part only worked because I wasn’t the jealous type and he couldn’t be too concerned since my college was close to an all girls school, even though I’m sure he still felt threatened. I think originally I wanted it to end when I first left, but I wasn’t ready too when it came time to say good-bye. I joked with him, “If you had a boring name, like Tom it would have never worked out.” I kind of liked telling people I met an Alistair abroad.

He was into making the big bucks, and I think I liked that about him in the beginning, I actually loved his determination and hopeful attitude. I think back then it was just what I needed: to turn off The Smiths and start enjoying myself. But once we were both at that part where school was over, me with a bachelor’s in Liberal Arts, him with a couple post grad degrees in marketing, I started to notice just how different we really were. I moved over and instantly hated the place he chose for us to live. Then he hated the job I chose for myself, even though I was very impressed with my ability to land a job my first day of trying. Vienna Shoes. The manager drove me crazy, which in turn drove him crazy, but it was all under the table money and it supported my shopping habit and I made rent when he couldn’t anymore. The main problem was that he wanted me to have a career so that I could stay. To him if I tried hard to get a job we would never have to be apart again, to me I wasn’t going to settle in some career, I still had a lot of living to do. I was not ready to be my parents. He was.

He had this friend, we’ll call him Clive. Now, I would be delighted to have a night out with Clive, but then he annoyed me to the point where I gave up and decided it gave me someone else to blame for my unhappiness. I missed that You, Me and Dupree movie, but I think I lived it while living in Blackrock. Clive and Alistair became fast friends during college in Dublin, while I was still in New York. And the times when I visited he was very fun to hang out with, but then when I arrived everything was thrown off. Three’s still a crowd.

Clive and Alistair had semi-planned a road trip with a couple of Alistair’s friends from Cork. I think he thought since I loved traveling, I’d enjoy going with the four of them. It was quite the adventure. We rented a car and camped our way through France and Spain and I think if I had gone with my friends I would have had a better time, or maybe if just the guys went, they would have all had a great time. We listened to a lot of MGMT and TuPac. Clive was a terrible driver. Alistair felt he had to keep all of us happy, me especially since things were already getting to the point of hopeless. I did enjoy seeing so much, and have every intention of returning to have just a little more time in Biarritz and San Sebastion and Valencia and Barcelona. Every time Alistair drank too much, or maybe he just acted drunk since I was most likely wasted off the wine and sangria, he proposed to me. It was something I had gotten used to, there was never a ring so I didn’t think I had anything to worry about, but I guess like he always would say, “What goes in sober, comes out drunk.”

After our little holiday we moved to his parents farm. It was in a really tiny town that had two churches, three bars, and one gas station with a little bit of a grocery store. The farm was about a mile off the main road. I’ve still tried to find it with google earth with no luck. We lived in the Bungalow with a family friend and his brother and his brother’s girlfriend. I slowly started to feel sorry for myself in the worst way. He would wake early to milk the cows and I would sleep. Then he was come wake me for lunch and I’d still want to lie in bed. I stopped shaving my legs, stopped wearing make up, and at the point when I stopped showering every day I decided I needed to get a job. I was ready to take anything. When I took a job selling make up business to business, Alistair was furious. All I could do was laugh. It was a hilarious job and I could see where it was humiliating, but after all I didn’t know anyone here so what did I care. I ended up being good at it, so I earned some quick cash and continued fighting with him about what was going to happen when my visa ended the next month. The job meant I had to wake up at 6 to catch the bus, then wait for Alistair’s rugby training to end at 7 to get a lift home with him. Alistair saw it as less time I was spending with him when we only had one precious month left together.

After I earned enough money to buy this coat that I really wanted, I quit. It was a great coat. I still love it. I needed excuses to get out of the farm since I wasn’t working, so I started going into Cork when Alistair had rugby training. I told him I was going to the college to use the computers to write for the website that I sort of worked for, but really I’d write everything really quickly and then rush over to Preachers, a pub that played great music and had a Wii. The bartender would give me free drinks if I could beat him in bowling, which usually didn’t happen, but either way when Alistair picked me up I smelled like Jameson. We tended to fight less on those nights so I don’t think he minded too much.

I dreaded my time at the farm, not because of anything in particular, but I just knew I was happier when I wasn’t there.  I started taking trips back to Dublin and drinking with the friends I had made up there. I would spent my weekends dancing to the Ting Ting’s “Shut up and Let me go” while Alistair played rugby and milked cows, our paths were definitely dividing.

When I left, I really did intend to return. He doesn’t believe that now, but I swear, if I didn’t think I was coming back, I really wouldn’t have left so much of my crap there! Especially these really adorable wellies, they were easy to slip on rain boots, white with red and yellow characters that looked like something straight out of Japan, but I think the company that made them was actually British. They were my I-really-need-something-to-get-me-excited-about-this-miserable-weather-rain boots. And they really did the trick. Unfortunately, in the break up those got thrown out and I’m still morning their loss and hoping someone will sell me a size 4 on eBay.