Happy St. Patrick's Day!
My maiden name is German, but most of my ancestors are Irish. I was blessed with Blarney, child bearing hips and ruddy skin.
I love St. Patrick's Day!
When I was in my drinking years (1980-2001), I used to belittle anyone who drank green beer instead of real Irish beer like Guinness. Unless they gave me some green beer. Then I would drink it and loudly tell anyone within ear shot that I prefer "real" Irish beer. I've always been an arse. (That's how the Irish say "ass", isn't it cute?)
In 1990, two of my also Irish girlfriends and I wanted to go out on St. Patrick's day. They are sisters. I will call them Peggy and Sheila. We wanted boys to buy us drinks. Actually, I wanted them to buy us drinks. Sheila was engaged already and just wanted to dance. Peggy wanted to find a husband.
Poor Peggy. She was a pretty girl - cute figure, pretty face and thick, long hair. But she had NO LUCK with men. Peggy would do things like talk about children on her first date. No quicker way to get a boy to dump you than to start naming kids on the first 30 dates. I know this.
Also, Peggy waited for boys to talk to her.
Peggy was pretty, but she was pretty in the same way I was pretty back then. Forgettably pretty. (One of the bonuses to being a plus size girl? I get noticed.)
I wasn't in the market for a husband. Frankly, I was at a stage where I could pretty much pick the boy I wanted and unless he was gay or engaged, I would get asked out. I'm an arse, but I'm a charming arse.
Sheila, Peggy and I went out on St. Patrick's day to find Peggy a husband.
I wore a green top, a black mini, footless tights and flats. (Don't judge me. It was 1990. I was 24. I was cute.) Sheila wore a green top, a black mini, black hose and 4 inch stilettos. (Don't judge her. It was 1990. She was 24. She was cute.) Peggy wore a tight back mini dress, nude hose and 4 inch stilettos. It was a man eater outfit. (You can judge her. She wasn't wearing green. It was St. Patrick's day.)
We went to an Irish Pub in West LA. Couldn't get in. We went to an Irish Pub in Santa Monica. Couldn't get in. We went to an Irish Pub in Culver City. Couldn't get in. All the Irish places were so packed that you couldn't even park, much less get in.
Peggy said "I know a place in El Segundo. It's called CJ Barrymore's. Let's try there."
I knew full well that CJ Barrymore's was full of Japanese and Korean men. I knew that because Japanese and Korean men were my very favorite flavors. I also knew that Peggy didn't particularly care for Asian men, as she wanted to meet a redhead named Kevin, marry him and name their children Siobhan and Seamus. For once in my life, I kept my mouth shut.
CJ Barrymore's was full, but not packed. We paid a cover. We got in.
Once Peggy got a look at all the hot. . .I mean Asian men in the place, she gave me a really dirty look.
"You were the one who wanted to come here," I reminded her.
We bought drinks and sat down. Peggy sat in her man eater outfit and waited for men to come to her.
Sheila and I went to dance.
I was ready to use my Irish Charm on these cute Asian boys.
"Happy St. Patrick's Day!" I would say to a dark haired cutie. "Are you Irish?"
I thought I was really, really funny.
They all thought I was a retard.
Except the cutest one.
He was sitting at the table next to Peggy. He was just hanging out, not on the prowl, not looking to dance. He was CUTE. Big dark eyes. Thick black hair. Broad shoulders. His shirt was rolled up to reveal smooth brown skin over muscular forearms.
Then he smiled at me.
I had to try it one more time.
"Happy St. Patrick's day" I said. "Are you Irish?"
He laughed. "Yes! My name is Greg O'Rourke and I am from County Clare"
"Really?" I asked.
"No", he laughed. "My name is Greg A____ and I am from LA. Are you Irish?"
And that is how I met the love of my life.
Lucky. We've been married for 18 years.
Peggy is still single. She says she is happily single. I think that's all Blarney.