I Met An Irishman Today

I Met An Irishman Today

By

Lorraine Sande

 I met an Irishman today, a pure Dubliner, or so he says.  His name is Rhys O’Connor and he is magnificent.  He stands at six foot two and would put Bond to shame.  He followed me a while, trying to get me to talk to him.  I considered just telling him to bug off, but then I thought, why shouldn’t I entertain him?  I mean after all, how many chances does a girl like me get to meet a gorgeous Irishman who actually happens to be interested in me?

 So I said ‘Hey’

 And he said ‘Hey pretty lady.  Was beginning to think you didn’t have a voice.’

 ‘Na, was just debating with myself.’

 ‘About what?’

 ‘Well, about whether or not I should talk to an Irishman.  You have a certain reputation you know.’

 He laughed.  I liked the sound.  We got to talking and I discovered I liked a lot of things about this Irishman.  He followed me around and helped me shop.  Not once complaining about the ages it took me to choose a particular item or try on a certain piece of clothing before rejecting it.  He was a good sport and all the while we talked.

 He took me to lunch at Panerotti’s and we had ribs and chips and he had a coke, complaining all the while that it was a drink for ‘Pansies’ and would rather have a draft or whatever.  I think he was adorable.  He, of course would have been mortified if he knew what I thought.  I had already committed the greatest faux pas by suggesting that he was sweet.  He looked at me as if I had insulted him.  ‘I’m Irish’ he declared ‘I am not sweet!’ with heavy emphasis on the NOT SWEET.

I laughed and told him he was my very own cave man.  He rolled his eyes and called me a minx.  I liked that.  No one’s ever called me a minx before.

 We spent hours over that lunch and I would have liked for the day to go on forever, but I had to get home.

 ‘It’s getting late.’  I said and he looked at me.

 ‘I leave tomorrow.’  He said.  He reaches out and touches my face and it feels so right.  I wish he had not told me he was leaving.

 ‘Tomorrow’ I mimed and he looked me in the eye and says ‘I wish I could stay longer,  hell I wish I could take you with me.’  I put my hand over his and he looks at our intertwined hands.  We become silent, absorbing the feeling of being joined, even if only by hands.

 I feel like I’m falling off an airplane with no parachute.  For a minute I am filled with the intense joy of being free as a bird but the look in his eyes brings me back to the reality of our situation.  We are falling and there’s no stopping it.  We are doomed.

I close my eyes.  I want to remember him like this.  Looking at me with love in his eyes.  I love him.  I realise.  In the space of a day I have lived more than I have in all my twenty five years and its all because of this magnificent man sitting with me.  Holding my hand.

We leave the restaurant without saying a word and stroll around town, going in the general direction of my bus stop.  I feel panic begin to consume me as we draw near.  He squeezes my hand.  I look at him and see he is in as much pain as I am.  One day is not enough.  I needed a lifetime to love this man.

We stop and stand facing each other.  I take him all in.  Six foot two, broad shoulders, narrow waist.  Muscular, virile, sexy, serious, intense.  I love everything about him.  His black hair and emerald eyes.