My first blog post of 2015! And more importantly (or amazingly) my first post where the subject has agreed to let me write about him!!!
He should note at this juncture that I have saved all proof of permission , should he change his mind and attempt to take legal action against me. Also to save his blushes, I won’t be using his real name.
Daryl* was a completely forgotten about Tinder match from a few months back. We had sent eachother a few messages but nothing had come off it so I was pretty surprised when his name flashed up on my phone at the beginning of December. Another Irish man, we seemed pretty at ease with eachother so I didn’t hesitate when he suggested that we meet for a drink.
We met on a Friday night for a few drinks and he was great. Hoorah! Could this be a Tinder success? I wasn’t sure but I decided to take a gamble and invite him to my house-warming party the very next night. So on day two, he met some of my nearest and dearest and despite his nerves he was a big hit with my friends.
Unfortunately though, I wasn’t so sure. Yes, Daryl was great and hadn’t put a foot wrong but I just didn’t look at him as a potential BF , more like a friend or even a brother! Yes, I know I’m an idiot! So just before Christmas Daryl got relegated to the friend-zone – yes, I’m the villain of this piece.
Daryl, to give him his dues, took the news well. He told me that he respected my decision and that he hoped to change my mind – basically adding to my compounding guilt.
Over the next few weeks, Daryl tried to change my mind. There was just one small problem. Irish men are not all that great at romance. Don’t get me wrong, Irish men are great. They are probably the funniest in the world but when it comes to romance they can be a little off the mark.
To win my affections, Daryl tried his hand at poetry. Now a normal guys attempt at poetry looks like this:
“And in her eyes I see something more beautiful than the stars.” – Beth Revis
or
“I knew the second I met you that there was something.
Something about you I needed.
Turnes out it wasn’t something about you at all.
It was you” – Jamie McGuire (No relation)
Poetry from a Sligo man looks dramatically different but I do have to commend Daryl for his efforts. So on New Years Eve I woke up to five verses of “Irish romance.” It went like this:
So I’ve landed at home and I’ve mentioned your name,
And you never will know what I’ve said all to them
That I don’t often wreck on to the lads all at home,
That someone has actually grabbed me by the whole.
So this isn’t me saying that I’m falling for you
Nor will I propose to that fourth date real soon,
but damn it I’m not a real man to hold back,
and forgive me to say that I’ll never be slack.
I’m all in for the trying for the spark you can’t see,
for the thing that’s so obviously clearly for me.
You crave someone special ,
not many possess,
but give me the chance to really progress.
I’m lying and wonder if I can be a good friend,
but all I really want is to be your boyfriend.
Now Neeta, or whatever your name is for short.
will you try, and please see,
that I am a good sort.
I never do write something cheesy like this,
but I desperately wonder if we can actually dismiss,
the potential of something you clearly cant see
is that I should be with you,
and you should be with me.
Needless to say, upon reading this WhatsApp masterpiece, I went weak at the knees. I literally fell down laughing.
W.B Yeats remains the only great poet to hail from Sligo. And Daryl remains securely in the friendzone.
anitamaguire 