I have seen the man who is going to be my next husband.
Conveniently, he appears to dwell near our little apartment so this will help with the stalking situation I will now find myself in.
Speaking of our apartment, I realised a few weeks ago that the area I am living in with Lilsister and Scarydancer is the area I lived in from the ages of about two to five, with Mammy and Papabear, and an even younger Firstbrother. So life once again has come full circle. I also think this is a sign that I am dying. I have returned where I roamed as a baby, although the view is a little different. 35 years ago, this part of Dublin was farmland and our council house backed onto an actual strawberry field, where we would go and feed ourselves. Now it is full of silly roads blocked with cars, a sprawling shopping centre and many, many apartments. It is FULL.
This is handy because I believe my future husband lives in one of the many apartments, or I would not have seen him run by my local tram stop.
There I was, yesterday afternoon, four day old dirty hair, tracksuited and in my Dublin football team rain jacket as it was as usual LASHING RAIN which it does every time I use public transport. I was looking less than stunning and feeling miserable as the tram was 7 minutes away and the sky was grey, to match my soul. Suddenly, a white light appeared before me and blasted brightness into the winter-themed afternoon. I thought an angel had appeared to tell me she would make the tram come faster, but no, it was a male human person thing, in his running outfit. Now I said he would be my next husband, I didn’t say he had any sense of fashion. A white t-shirt (fine I suppose) but white shorts??? White shoes and socks? With white i pod earphones? Hmmm. All matching the white hairs he so distinguishly owns. Which means he must be at least in his thirties!!! Hurray!!!
I may not be talking him up much but here is the best part. So Mr Bright ran past me at the tram stop, I followed him until he became a dot, and then the tram came. Four stops later, and there is Mr Bright again, RUNNING FASTER THAN THE TRAM. AND he had gotten to the fourth stop quicker than me, and all he had was at most a six minute headstart!!! I am VERY impressed by this. It shows that he is fit, and active, and doesn’t spend his Easter Sunday drinking pints and eating giant easter eggs which is what I would have done if somebody had poured me a pint and handed me an egg.
These are all good things and I went out stalking, sorry, walking this morning and THOUGHT I saw him whizzing by but alas it was someone with a full head of brown hair. Probably for the best, as my hair has now gone five days without washing, and not only was I tracksuited AGAIN and in my giant rain jacket (which does nothing for the figure) I also had a Dublin football team beanie hat jammed onto my filthy skull. At best, I looked like a square male person. However, Mr Bright gives one inspiration to go outside and exercise, something which is becoming increasingly difficult due to the horrific weather and the absolute depression and inability to do anything once I have completed a day’s work.
Now, where is my Easter Egg? I feel a feeding frenzy coming on.