Getting Married To An Irishman -- lucky girl!

13 March 2011

372

R. Linda:

Well, begorrah me! If I am not in a state of shock. Maureen's getting married to her Irish boyfriend, like next week! Who knew? Yes, the same Maureen that took me on that lovely evening of trying to hook up Scott with her single sister Rose. She never mentioned the wedding was to be so soon. I thought the bloke was still over in Ireland and here I find he's been here for a week! Then why was I subject to the Scott and Rose show I wanna know. 

I had to go to work today and there she was sporting this huge rock on her finger. The laddie did well he did, I just have to make sure Tonya doesn't see that thing. So she says shyly she wants to invite Ton and me to her wedding but the invitations are at the printer, but here's a heads up because she may not get to mail them in time since the wedding is . . . say it with me . . . NEXT WEEK! Well, I wished her the best of wishes and said I'd congratulate the lucky lad when I met him. 

Yes, there she was in a daze, and there I was watching her thinking oh you don't know the madness that awaits ya, ya don't you poor lass of an Irish girl. So since I was waiting for copy to come up on me computer and she was busy doing nothing but a little wedding dreaming, I asked her about his family and how many brothers and sisters he had.

"Em . . . he has three sisters and four brothers," she smiled shyly again. I don't know why she was getting all shy on me, but I remarked that was a healthy brood. 

"Oh yeah, and he wants just as many." She said still in dreamland.

"And, how do you feel about that?" I asked, knocking her out of dreamland.

"Oh . . . I don't know I want so many, four would be good, but seven well that is the traditional number isn't it?" And she laughed but I could see a furrowed brow and it got her thinking. 

"Family figures in an Irishman's masculinity, the more bairns (kiddies) he begets the more manly he feels," I laughed. She pursed her lips together thinking on that as she nodded. 

"Well, I don't know I can cope with that many wee ones, three is starting to sound better and better instead of four. But seven? Ye think he'd want me to have all those to keep up appearances do ye?"

"Hum, don't know." I mused. 

"He be good to me, he listens for hours at Rose's troubles in the man department," she said weighing all this in her mind while changing the subject, "he even compliments me mammy on her cookin' when I know he prefers his own mam's. He even sat through me sissy Cailin's worries on her husband's drinkin' and this when his fav hurling team was on the telly." Yes, she was trying to convince herself he was a catch, I could see it. "He even went to the pub with the hubby to try to turn him round from the drinkin' and he doesn't even like the man."

I had to think about that last for a minute. How do you turn someone off drinking and go to a pub to do it? That was a first.

"Well, he sounds like he be bending over backwards to please ya," I said cheerily.

"Yeah, he doesn't sweat the small stuff ya know. He be calm and rational in the way he looks at tings. And he finds life a laugh most days."

Ah yes, I thought we Irishmen have a grand sense of humour we do. We make light of everything and can put an end to an argy by charming the pants off ya . . . quite literally.

"He has a big heart he does, he has truble showin' it, but he does have a good heart." And this she seemed to be giving some thought to as if trying to convince herself. "He tends to put other people's trubles before his own," and I could see she was thinking that wasn't so good, "and he be giving and kind, and generous," and I could see him giving away money and household objects in her mind and I chuckled to meself at the thought. "Yeah he goes out of his way to make his friends happy, and some of them are not worth the time of day." Yup, there it was! "Male friends that be." Yup no doubt about it, she was rethinking this wedding thing.

"Is he an expressive kind of guy?" I asked.

"Oh no, no, like yourself Gabriel ye never know what's going on in that head of yours until it's too late." She said this with a devilish expression on her face. 

"But it be what we do, makes up for that other, the generous ting," I interjected quickly.

"Ye know now that I tink on it Gabe, when I have cooked him meals this past week, he did tell me his mam's was better. He didn't tell me own mam that, but he told me that, and now he's telling me the same ting. Does yer mam coomb first wit ya Gabriel?"

I knew better than to get into that, so I lied and said no. But show me an Irishman who's mam is last and I'll show you a man who isn't Irish. I wanted to tell her to get set for a life of being compared to Mammy, but I kept me gob shut.

"Another ting I noticed that I didn't before we were engaged, he doesn't do anything. I mean I coomb home and I pick up after him. His clothes are on the floor, the dishes are piled in the sink, he doesn't wash the crumbs off, the dishes are in the living room, I do everything, the cooking, the cleaning, the shoppin', the laundry, and I even pay the bills!"

"Well, ye do know back on the old sod we do tend to tink dat be women's work we do," I said in defence. I be the same way, but me wife has a whip of a tongue she lashes me with so unlike me brethren I do work around the house, not willingly mind you, but I do it to keep peace and harmony.

"He's useless," she said more to herself. "If I didn't wash his clothes he'd wear 'em day in and day out. When he arrived I was a wee bit embarrassed at what he was a wearin' I was. He had jeans from years ago (bell bottoms) with a shirt that he's had since he was a teenager. I tried to get him to go to the shops with me, get him some decent clothes to wear, but he told me to go on ahead, he'd be fine with whatever I picked out." She threw up her hands.

"Well, maybe his mammy did all that for him," I half-joked.

"Probably she did and dressed 'em too. Well, I know she did, what he wears is so old-fashioned it has to be her." She sighed. "And, get this one, I wanted to have a special dance at our wedding, he informed me he hasn't a clue about dance. An Irishman that can dance? I was like where are ye from? He said, if I wanted a jig done he could do that and he was perfectly fine wit it and serious! So I signed us oop for dance lessons I did, and he didn't know his right from his left and vice-versa. And he wouldn't go back for a second lesson because he said he'd be embarrassed any of the lads back home found out he was taken foolish lessons in dance." 

"Well, maybe ye should make him do that jig, serve him right he'll be more embarrassed AFTER that." I laughed, no help at all. To add fuel to the already partly raging fire, I asked, "What is the single thing in particular you don't like about him?" I WAS JOKING I WAS.

She was quick  though, "He tinks it be funny to pass wind under the covers and then throw me in to seal me in wit the stink!"

I'm sorry I lost it then, I was on the floor with laughter, I truly thought it funny, she didn't, but I did! I couldn't help meself.

"And he has the nerve to say 'You liked that one? Hold on here comes another!'"

Again I was on the floor and she had stood up to come over and look at me like I was as moronic as the boyfriend. 

"You tink it as funny as he does! So much pride in what a bodily function can produce at the cost of another. I dunno." She stood there shaking her head. "Do ye know when his uncle died, we were all in tears because the man was beloved in the neighbourhood, and you know how he acted?"

"Uh . . . no, how?"

"Nothing. Not a tear shed, but when Ireland lost out on a place in the 2010 FIFA World Cup he was in tears!"

"Well, we do tend to keep our feelings hidden. You know the manly thing again. But then again, footie . . ." I said shrugging like it was the most precious of sports to we Irishmen.

"I dunno there Gabe, I tink I be makin' a mistake I do. Maybe I should postpone the weddin' fer a bit, do ya tink?"

OH no, don't get me in on THAT. I just looked back at her with me palms held up heavenward like -- I dunno. Then I thought, Gabe he's a fellow Irishman, you better defend his arse.

"Well, he be from Ireland, he be a good lookin' lad I suppose," she nodded to that. "Well, he loves his mam, that's a good ting Maureen, so you know he'll love you," but she interrupted me to say 'second best' and I tried to ignore that and continued, "you'll make beautiful bairns together and what's a footie fanatic when he's . . . he's . . . " I came up short.

"Not breaking wind? Well, let me tell you he's a slob, a lazy stay-at-home, a drinkin' fool BUT he's a charmer!" She declared, one finger in the air.

"Uh yeah, that's the spirit den it be!" That was the end of it, she went back to her cubicle, got her purse and coat and wished me a good day she had "sum business at home to attend ta."

I watched her stalk out thinking that lover boy was probably in for a night of it. So I ran after her quickly catching her going down the stairs. I shouted to her, "Maureen remember that rock!" I pointed to me marriage finger, "He's got good taste in the jewellery department."

She stopped and a strange smile slowly crossed her lips, "Yeah and there Gabe, he also has a dead gran he got it off. Jewelry department me arse." And off she went. I stood there for a long while feeling guilty that I might have unleashed the wrath of an Irishwoman on an unsuspecting Irishman. A good-hearted, generous, kind soul . . . okay so he's a sloppy slob and a passer of gas. What can I say? Me guilt didn't last but a few seconds.

Gabe
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