It seems that I'm a magnet for weirdos
Published 06/07/2015 | 02:30
Why do weirdos seek me out? They gravitate in droves. And I mean weirdos in the true sense. It has happened all my life, and shows no signs of abating. I was in a nightclub abroad recently. I know I'm too old for night clubs, but there you go. I was there and that's the end of it. I used to live in fear when my kids were going to nightclubs in Cork that I would bump in to them when I occasionally ventured in. I'm sure their fear was greater. Raw and palpable.
Anyway, I was outside having a cigarette with others when this guy came up to me and bummed a cigarette. He asked us where we were from. When I replied that I was from Cork he had some garbled story about his Spanish father and Cork. A bit of slagging about Cork ensued and because he had no sense of humour he thought we were taking the piss out of him and got very ratty with me. Now I wasn't actually the one who had been vocal, and nor was I drunk, but he decided I was the one he was going to have a go at. He called me a fifty-something drunk woman. Now he didn't mention fat or ugly. If he had I would have, as we say in Cork, given him a 'dawk'. I decided to maintain my dignity and said nothing. But it got to me and having gone back in, I was determined to find him again. It wasn't about the drunk bit because I knew I wasn't. Slightly tipsy, maybe. It was his disparaging tone about older women.
And lo and behold I found him. Louis was his name. Louis the Langer, as we would say in Cork. He told me he thought we were insulting his father, and he had never known him. Tears were welling up in his eyes. I sympathised and said "sure you had a good mother". Why I said that I don't know. I didn't know the first thing about his mother. "No" he sobbed. I enquired as to whether he was married. "Divorced with three children". He was now inconsolable. Sobbing uncontrollably. I gave him a hug and my top was soaking from his tears. I ran. Oh, sweet Jesus. Maybe I should stay in.