Sunday afternoon.

I found an Irish Pub that does Bloody Mary’s, finally. I have a spot outside on the patio where I can sit and watch the street. Nothing interesting has happened so far. Mostly it’s just me sitting here giggling over the fact that I ordered the hot beef stew. Yaaassss I did, fam, yaaassss I did.

That’s only funny to me.

*giggles for awhile*

Just sitting here waiting for the Bloody Mary. Please let it be half way decent. The one I had two weeks ago at the American Bar was total shite.

Ah, at last, the moment has arrived. Alas, it is just mediocre at best. Oh well. We are in Thailand, after all. Can’t have it all.

This street is not as exciting to watch as the main road. It’s much calmer. It’s mostly people passing back and forth on scooters or walking by. More of a quieter, residential area.

Oh boy, here come the good old lads. They’re all going inside. I’m sitting outside specifically so I don’t have to listen to anyone talking. I’m just in the mood to watch the street.

Let’s look on the bright side: this series of ridiculous events has awakened the voices of my ancestors and put me directly back in touch with my family, albeit if they are all dead and buried in the ground.

Good news: the stew is amazing. Amazing decisions were made. It’s warm and comforting and beefy, just the way I like. My mom used to make this for me every year on my birthday growing up. It’s one of my favourite meals.

As I was sitting there indulging in the comforts of the stew, I started to understand more about what took place between myself and this man the other night. I guess I always wonder how and why men are attracted to me, or why I am attracted to them. I always reel in so many different types of characters, you know?

What do I feel when I eat this stew? Warm and comforted. What did I feel when that mysterious stranger kissed me in the elevator? Warm and comforted. Maybe we should change his name from Irish Guy to Hot Beef Stew. I’m sure he would be absolutely thrilled to hear that.

Yes, I remember now. He felt so different from the British Guy. The British Guy was so cold and clammy. He was uptight and somewhat barbaric and very rude. He was very cold in his heart, just like the housekeeper from The Peak described. Kissing his was like eating a plate of cold, stale fish and chips that had been left sitting out on the stand all day. Irish Guy was exactly like this stew: warm, comforting, perfect to just wrap up in a blanket and eat on a cold, stormy day.

Oh my god.

He can forget all he wants, but me? No. I will remember him forever.

See what he did there?

He asked me about my Muses. He was the only one who wanted to know about My Andrew. I think I can guess why. Now he has become a Muse. It’s a job that comes with perks, like a charming seaside cottage on the Irish coast and the care of many different magical creatures.

Next question: do I know how to make this stew? Not yet, but it’s easy and I could learn. I remember watching my mom make it in the kitchen. I know how it should taste. I know how it should feel. I should be able to replicate it on my own.

See, this is the lesson I was supposed to learn! Who needs a man when you can just make a pot of hot Irish beef stew?

Wow, what a great take away from this otherwise questionable experience. When it doubt, just make stew. The end.

Hmm… writing all of this has made me very hungry. Should I order another serving, or would that be too much? I want to, but I know in my heart it’s not a good idea. I would regret it too much later when the whole house of cards comes crashing down right at my doorstep. I don’t need another fire at my brewery, you know what I’m saying?

Does anyone know what I’m saying? No.

All I know is that I’m on a journey. Is that journey currently leading me somewhere over the rainbow? Yes. Will that journey end with a pot of gold? Who is to really say?

We do know it ends with a pot of hot beef stew, and that might as well to be gold to me right now. I really needed the gift of Irish Love in my life after suffering through so much pain.

Did you get what you wanted? No. Did you get what you really needed? Maybe.

You know what I need right now? The WiFi password.

I’m just sitting here thinking to myself… Wow, what was that?

It was an Experience, that’s what it was. An Experience I was definitely not expecting to have. Now that I’ve had it, I’ll never forget it. It’s part of a big adventure I wasn’t even expecting to have.

I’ll tell you what I do think though. I think whoever this man was, he was smart, he didn’t trust me, he was collecting information about me, and he knew exactly what he was doing when he came over to my apartment that night. There is no doubt in my mind.

I just think about the conversation we had about My Andrew. I was very direct and honest with him about it. I said he was a man I met one night when I fell for and could not be with because he was married with a family. He had feelings for me too, but he never acted on them. Those mutual, unfulfilled feelings turned into a book. I loved him. He’s the only one I ever did love. And he’s the only one I never touched.

I literally started crying while I was explaining this to him. He just got all serious in that way the people of the Isles do when someone has an emotional outburst. They don’t like intense emotional displays. They prefer to keep things very proper. My family is very much like this, which is why I no longer have a relationship with them.

He said very plainly, “Stop that now. That didn’t happen. You didn’t really love him. That’s not what love is.”

“There is more than one way to love,” I said. “That’s what love is to me. Andrew is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to Love. That’s my experience of Love. The only way I’ve ever loved anyone is through writing about them. I’ve never been with anyone in that way before. That’s why I am the way I am about my Hoes in Different Area Codes. It’s all just for show.”

He just shook his head and said, “Stop that now. No more tears.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?” I asked. “How can you not believe me when I am telling you the truth? I am sharing my deepest, darkest secret with you while laying together naked in bed with you and you are looking at me like you don’t believe me. How can you not believe me?

He kept staring at me silently for a long time. I didn’t understand why until the next day when I found out the truth about his situation.

Still, after this conversation, he did not say he was married with a child. He said he had a girlfriend, not a wife. That is so not cool, bro! I’ve been nothing but honest and direct and upfront with you from the start. Why are you lying about that? You could have just told me upfront. I’ve been with married men before. They make their choices, just like you. I’m not responsible for that. I’m just here to get my inspiration so I can write my dumb little stories comparing wholes like you to a bowl of hot beef stew on a cold, stormy night so I can feel better bout the fact that I keep getting used and discarded by jerks like you!

I can accept that he was drunk. I can accept that he didn’t quite understand what he was signing up for with the whole Muse thing. I don’t accept that he didn’t know exactly what he was doing when he came over to my apartment. The only person with an agenda here is him.

There’s a thunderstorm rolling in. I forgot my umbrella in my other bag. I guess it’s time to pay my tab and go home. I don’t really want to sit here and drink all day. I’d rather go home and wrap myself up in a warm, cozy blanket and watch TV.

Off to do exactly that now. Happy 37th birthday to me.