So, this is partially about how it was I came to be here in Ireland, but more generally about what I want and need at this time in my life. At the end of 2008 I was on a sojourn in Melbourne to visit my very best friend. We were at a bar that we frequent, mainly due to its large proportion of travellers (ie. men with gorgeous accents), and whilst there I met a young gentleman called Danny (a very bad name for me). He was, unfortunately, not foreign, but, as luck would have it, he was from Sydney. We got along quite well and he took my number and contacted me upon my return to the harbour city. Some dates occurred, lovely, wonderful dates, and I thought that it might be going somewhere. It wasn't. He ended up doing the normal guy thing, avoiding me when he felt things were getting too much like a relationship, and I was devastated. Not so much because of him personally, but just generally. Too many men had done this to me, and I was at my wit's end. I was also in a very bad place with my ex-boyfriend/best friend/worst enemy. He had just left to go to Argentina for six months, having given me one week's notice of this. We were still on and off at this stage (he was like an addiction that I just couldn't shake), and I was slightly heartbroken that he didn't feel that he should share this fairly important information with me. I ended up making the journey back to my parents' house after work that day, and collapsing in a fit of tears at the top of the stairs. My parents were due to fly to Dublin in a month's time to visit my stepdad's family, and my mum immediately decided that the best thing for me at that point was to travel. So I found myself the next month flying into Dublin and, well, the rest, as they say, is history.
The bigger point of this story regards a story this young man called Danny told me. We got to talking one night about our exes and he told me all about his cheerleader ex girlfriend. They had broken up about a year previously, but it was clear he was still somewhat hung up on her (not that I could talk). He told me that after she ended it with him, he was heartbroken and ended up coming over to Europe for a few months with one of his brothers in an attempt to move on. It didn't work, and he told me how he would call her everyday from phone booths all over Europe. One of the stories he told me was about how he left the hostel at 2am to search for a phone booth because he knew she would be available to take his call at that time. He found one, after almost getting mugged, and she kept hanging up on him, but he kept calling. This might sound stalkerish to some, but to me, this is hopelessly, terribly, heartbreakingly romantic.
And it brings me to this. What I want, more than anything in the world, is a man that will fight for me. That won't let go, no matter what I throw at him. Who could be in some of Europe's most beautiful, amazing cities, but who can't keep his mind off me. Once upon a time I didn't think it was that much to ask. I've watched guys that I've known uproot themselves entirely for the love of a woman. I always thought that when someone loves you, they would do anything at all. But, as I've grown older, I've realised that's not true. Someone can love you, but not be brave enough to risk it all. I want someone who is willing to take a risk for me, because I think that I'm worth a risk. However, I'm now at a point where I don't necessarily believe that this is going to happen. Or that anything is going to happen. Most guys my age or close to it are either in relationships, or not worth having. It is a depressing state of affairs really. I'll hold out hope though, it's all you can do at the end of the day.
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