Our uncle arrived at the pub late, as he plays trad music in a different pub on Sunday nights. Dublin had just thrashed Derry in the Gaelic football at the hallowed Croke Park, and we had a double celebration what with it being Papabear’s 65th birthday celebrations too.
There was gin, beer and shots of baby Guinness. I threw up that night and all the next day too, thank the universe Lilsister cooked shepherd’s pie the next day, it was the only thing I kept down for 24 hours.
During the festivities Lilsister informed me that newly separated Unca (age 63) would be bringing ‘a girlfriend’ to her upcoming wedding extravaganza in October. We were both a little shocked – it was only January when I and Unca hugged each other on our mutual marriage breakdowns – my divorce and his formal separation.
I immediately approached Unca. ‘You have a girlfriend?’ I slurred. Indeed he did, he advised, and for a few months. Excuse me, I pondered out loud, how long have you been separated again? He queried if I meant officially or unofficially. ‘Both,’ I enthused.
My 63 year old uncle, officially separated since Christmas, marriage broken down about a year and a half, has a girlfriend. I am single almost three years and whilst I may not be seeking a boyfriend (or whatever they are called when you are 39 and three quarters) it is not like they are beating down the doors to enter Loboworld.
‘How did you find her?’ I asked.
‘You have to get out there and meet people,’ he confirmed.
I mentioned to Papabear that he was making me look bad. ‘Yes, he is’, he replied.
Prettyboy said as soon as I stop being bitter I will probably be alright.
I remain utterly bemused that all of the above have partners and I do not.