MAYBE YOU’VE FOUND the man of your dreams, or perhaps you’re still holding out for your very own Irish charmer.
Either way, you’ve probably run the gauntlet of ‘lads’ throughout your dating life.
Of course, Irish people don’t date, per se.
They organise to meet the person of their fancy on a night out where there will be at least 17 other people present.
At the end of the night, when enough drink has been taken, one of the pair will drop the lámh, lob the gob and go in for the shift.
If this happens regularly enough there will be a mutual agreement that you are boyfriend and girlfriend.
What about all the ones who came before ‘the one’ though?..
The secondary school boyfriend
He was your first love. Your everything.
You swallowed the embarrassment of having to ring his house phone and called him every day after Home and Away, taking the risk that his mam – or even worse, his little sister – might answer.
You wore his watch and gazed at it during Business Studies, paraded around holding his hand at Big Lunch, and proudly wore his tie on the last day of school.
And then the Leaving Cert came, and the summer and the prospect of college and much more exotic boys, and your love faded, just like Home and Away’s Shane after he got septicaemia and died…
The guy your mate set you up with
He was wearing those brown shoe-runners. You know the ones.
He told you you were “almost as good looking as your Facebook profile picture”, and made sure you knew before the date that you’d be splitting the bill. You went to Eddie Rockets by the way.
You’re still not speaking to the friend who set you up.
You first locked eyes over the three hole punch, and slowly the tension grew.
You began to relish office nights out and you start getting up a little bit early to do your hair properly, and iron your top.
Then, one night after you all bailed into Coppers after “just the one after work” your eyes met over some jagerbombs, and sparks flew.
You carried on your exciting illicit romance for several weeks, until you saw him get a bollocking from the boss for forgetting how to use the photocopier, and caught him smelling his armpits after a spot of lunchtime five-a-side.
It didn’t last.
Now you avoid being in the kitchen alone with him and spend your days searching the #Jobfairy hashtag on Twitter.
The friend of a friend
For a while all of your friend’s ‘lad friends’ seemed like the same person. They were all called Stephen, or Walsho, or Brendan.
One night out, Walsho gave you the glad eye and you accepted.
You vetted him via social media and began seeing him on every night out.
When the inevitable break-up happened, you had to stop hanging out with 23 of your closest friends.
Obviously you will run into Walsho 17 times at Electric Picnic this year. Obviously.
The mammy’s boy
He might tell you he’s still living at home because he’s saving for a house, but could it be that you’ve fallen for a bona fide mammy’s boy?
Does he regularly check the microwave without thinking, to see if there’s a bit of dinner left in there?
Does he sleep in a single bed?
Do his clothes smell like heaven?
He’s a mammy’s boy. No doubt about it.
The fella you met at a gig
You met at an And So I Watch You From Afar gig in The Róisín Dúbh/Whelans/The Forum/The Pavilion
Then you spent six months pretending that you were into obscure post rock to impress him, and you bought tickets to Body and Soul, even though the thought of sleeping in a tent for the weekend almost give you the scutters.
It ended after you came clean about your love for vintage S Club & and your hatred for his handlebar moustache.
Don’t worry men, we have a ladies version coming soon. Leave your thoughts in the comments, or email email@example.com…