Don't judge me, but it's been six months since my last
date with a member of the opposite gender.
It's not my fault, not exactly. What happened was that I had my heart shattered into three hundred and seventy two pieces by my ex-girlfriend. I mean, she slept with both of my best friends in the space of three days. Sleeping with one of your partners best mates is a bit rude, but both? That just shows an unforgiveable level of disdain for your other half.
Understandably I spent a few weeks howling in my man-cave apartment like a wolf with a spear in its side. The neighbours banged on the wall to complain a few times. I paid no attention: I just kept the curtains drawn and watched the entirety of "Breaking Bad". Eventually I groped towards the light and re-entered the land of the living. Mostly because my supplies of pasta, hula hoops and coke zero were running low. I ventured forth one morning to Tesco and procured supplies but the trip outside in the sunlight reminded me what I was missing. . I decided to stop wallowing in my own despair and, much like Walter White does in "Breaking Bad", take control of my life.
It's not my fault, not exactly. What happened was that I had my heart shattered into three hundred and seventy two pieces by my ex-girlfriend. I mean, she slept with both of my best friends in the space of three days. Sleeping with one of your partners best mates is a bit rude, but both? That just shows an unforgiveable level of disdain for your other half.
Understandably I spent a few weeks howling in my man-cave apartment like a wolf with a spear in its side. The neighbours banged on the wall to complain a few times. I paid no attention: I just kept the curtains drawn and watched the entirety of "Breaking Bad". Eventually I groped towards the light and re-entered the land of the living. Mostly because my supplies of pasta, hula hoops and coke zero were running low. I ventured forth one morning to Tesco and procured supplies but the trip outside in the sunlight reminded me what I was missing. . I decided to stop wallowing in my own despair and, much like Walter White does in "Breaking Bad", take control of my life.
I re-engaged with polite society. I took a shower for the
first time in three weeks, brushed the Hula Hoop seasoning from my expanded
facial topiary and smiled. I joined a martial arts gym and took up hill-walking
in the hopes of meeting a prospective partner of the female persuasion.
Obviously, that didn't work. Not many hotties do MMA. You'd find more talent in a graveyard and, I don't care what you've read on the numerous singles hill-walking websites, but nobody’s feeling sensual after a hike halfway up the Wicklow Mountains in a rain jacket and woolly hat.
One evening, after a particularly strenuous hike, I fell into bed and passed out in exhaustion. I awoke a few hours later to the sensation that I was being strangled. I opened my eyes and saw the shadowy figure of an attractive woman sitting on my chest with her arms on my neck. I had been visited by a succubus. The denizen of the night had surely been attracted to me by the constant nocturnal weeping that had become my trademark these past few months. The strange thing was, I was kind of enjoying it. I was just so glad to have any form of contact with another being. So, instead of struggling, I just welcomed it. At one point I smiled up at the Succubus. She smiled back. Her vice like grip around my throat relaxed and she vanished.
In the days that followed this inhabitant of Hades became a regular visitor. After the third visit she stopped trying to cut off my air supply and just sat on the edge of my bed for a few minutes before going on her way. I began to sense that maybe the zest had gone out of her work and she just needed some quiet time between smotherings. Strangulation must get pretty repetitive if you’re doing it day in, day out. I began to speak to her on her fleeting visits, just the usual stuff. How was your day? That kind of thing. Nothing too flirty. We Irish can’t flirt effectively. It’s a cultural tic we blame on the English, just like everything else.
Starved as I was of female companionship and anyone to talk to in general, I began to look forward to her visits. We got on great. Eventually I asked her out for coffee. She agreed. We met at a local café a few days later.
Coffee went surprisingly well. We chatted for hours over mochas about our careers, hobbies and what we'd seen in the cinema lately. Apparently Succubae get plenty of free time to indulge in that kind of thing. I'm not entirely sure that she was visible to the other people in the coffee shop though. I got some really weird looks from the Barista.
Coffee soon turned into dinner at the local sushi place. She put away a shocking amount of Gyoza. She did pay half of the bill though.
Three weeks of regular dating and we're an item now I guess, she comes over most evenings before her shift. I've introduced her to "Breaking Bad" and "Community". She seems to dig them and it's hard to find a woman who's into both. There is one problem though: last night she asked me to go on a trip with her to visit her parents and I really have no interest in visiting Torremolinos.
Obviously, that didn't work. Not many hotties do MMA. You'd find more talent in a graveyard and, I don't care what you've read on the numerous singles hill-walking websites, but nobody’s feeling sensual after a hike halfway up the Wicklow Mountains in a rain jacket and woolly hat.
One evening, after a particularly strenuous hike, I fell into bed and passed out in exhaustion. I awoke a few hours later to the sensation that I was being strangled. I opened my eyes and saw the shadowy figure of an attractive woman sitting on my chest with her arms on my neck. I had been visited by a succubus. The denizen of the night had surely been attracted to me by the constant nocturnal weeping that had become my trademark these past few months. The strange thing was, I was kind of enjoying it. I was just so glad to have any form of contact with another being. So, instead of struggling, I just welcomed it. At one point I smiled up at the Succubus. She smiled back. Her vice like grip around my throat relaxed and she vanished.
In the days that followed this inhabitant of Hades became a regular visitor. After the third visit she stopped trying to cut off my air supply and just sat on the edge of my bed for a few minutes before going on her way. I began to sense that maybe the zest had gone out of her work and she just needed some quiet time between smotherings. Strangulation must get pretty repetitive if you’re doing it day in, day out. I began to speak to her on her fleeting visits, just the usual stuff. How was your day? That kind of thing. Nothing too flirty. We Irish can’t flirt effectively. It’s a cultural tic we blame on the English, just like everything else.
Starved as I was of female companionship and anyone to talk to in general, I began to look forward to her visits. We got on great. Eventually I asked her out for coffee. She agreed. We met at a local café a few days later.
Coffee went surprisingly well. We chatted for hours over mochas about our careers, hobbies and what we'd seen in the cinema lately. Apparently Succubae get plenty of free time to indulge in that kind of thing. I'm not entirely sure that she was visible to the other people in the coffee shop though. I got some really weird looks from the Barista.
Coffee soon turned into dinner at the local sushi place. She put away a shocking amount of Gyoza. She did pay half of the bill though.
Three weeks of regular dating and we're an item now I guess, she comes over most evenings before her shift. I've introduced her to "Breaking Bad" and "Community". She seems to dig them and it's hard to find a woman who's into both. There is one problem though: last night she asked me to go on a trip with her to visit her parents and I really have no interest in visiting Torremolinos.
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