My ex was Irish. Is Irish, I suppose. I don’t know why I talk about him in the past tense. After all, nothing about him stopped when he broke up with me. It was me who stopped.
I stopped feeling. I stopped sleeping. I stopped dressing properly, wearing makeup or drying my hair. I stopped eating (Christmas has seen me put all the weight back on through my love of cheese, don’t you worry). I stopped reading. I stopped getting out of bed for a while.
Amongst every other emotion I’ve been through in the past few months, I stopped liking the Irish. I would hear Irish accents on the bus and wonder why they had to taunt me like this. During the X Factor final, one of the boys from Westlife was on giving his expert musical opinion (kind of risible, anyway), but he said the word “amazing” with exactly the same intonation that my ex’s family used. I spontaneously sobbed like a mad woman. Maybe worst of all, when I could finally face reading again, I couldn’t read anything by Marian Keyes – one of my very favourite authors. She’s Irish.
I started her latest book, ‘The Mystery of Mercy Close’, yesterday. I’ve nearly finished it. It’s brilliant. And the Irish sayings, the language, the places she alludes to, they’re actually helping me to make my peace with everything.
Incidentally, the book is about a woman around my age suffering from depression. I know depression is a devastating illness, and I’ve only brushed with it over the past few months, not been pulled mercilessly down as some are. But the vivid descriptions of her hopelessness. The matter-of-fact distress. The sadness. Those are the elements of this book that have me turning the page corner and putting it aside for a few minutes just so I can cry.
The Irish? The Irish I can cope with.
In fact, I’ve been talking to a guy on eHarmony. Irish.
So we will call him ‘Irish’.
He’s from the other end of the country from the ex, so that’s good. He really makes me laugh and we’ve been sending each other crazy long emails. He’s back in London next week. Irish used to live in Japan, writes stand-up comedy, loves animations, and lives really near me. I am a big fan of all these things.
Maybe Ireland isn’t out to get me. Maybe I just had the wrong Irish man.
Pizza of Doom 
Love this post! Missed reading your life. I think you’re right. It was the wrong Irish man. Gotta give someone else a chance 🙂
Happy New Year, darling. May 2014 be INFINITE times better than 2013. It’s done. I’m burning it. C’est la vie
I missed reading yours too! I enjoyed your post earlier today. Life has been quiet on WordPress over the festive period.
One day to go, my friend. One. Day.
I’ll drink a whisky for you tomorrow night.
Doesn’t 2014 have the nicest ring to it? x
Ahhh, yes! Please do.
It honestly does have a nice ring to it. It sounds so promising. I think I may do a 2014 bucket list and throw it up on my wall. I need some motivation for the months to come. Can’t stop now!
Do it! I have to work tomorrow so i fully intend to spend the time writing my ‘Goodbye 2013, you complete asshole’ post. Yours sounds more positive than mine! But come Thursday I’m all about the positivity.
x
Hahah! Oh my gosh yes! Get your last thoughts out of the year. Let them be angry! And then Thursday will be a new.
You most definitely had the wrong Irishman– I like the sound of this new guy. And I totally relate to that whole spontaneous tears thing. It feels like everything in the universe is a reminder after you go through a breakup. I’ve seen streets and businesses all with the name of an ex and just been like “REALLY?! Where did this even come from?!” I’m rooting for this new guy 🙂