Bloody St Paddy

March 17.
I once loved a man so much I missed him every day for more than ten years. Then one day I didn't think of him, and when I realised, I stopped and said his name to myself, George, George, George, like a talisman.

We were only together, properly, for a week. Seven short days. They were the happiest of my life, blissful. Nothing compares. We drove the long way to the city, through farmland, past inlets and through the tall trees, listening to Paul Kelly in my clapped out yellow Corolla. The last night we made it to Mandurah and I made him stop, the thought of arriving too much to bear just yet. We made love in our tent before watching fireworks over the fairground.
Later there were fireworks by the city foreshore, and his arms around me in the darkness.
But I had uni and he had to leave for Ireland, and the farm. We'd known each other a long time, flirting from a distance, too young and otherwise involved to make the leap earlier. Too much distance, maybe?

It all went wrong. Of course it did. How could it not, when I lied by omission then stupidly told the truth in an email. You don't want the details, they aren't at all romantic, just messy.  I wanted him not to care, to love me so much it, the issue, didn't matter, he had to have me. I backtracked so quickly when I heard the tone of his voice he didn't know what the hell was happening, how could he? I didn't give him pause for breath to reject me, I got in first. Stupid stupid girl...

I still see his eyes, warm and brown and laughing at me. He never said he loved me but surely he did. Those eyes had said it every time I looked. I just didn't give him the time, the chance, to say it in more than actions. I blurted it out at him because I couldn't keep it in one second longer. And he had come for me, I just didn't realise it.

Now I'm married to someone else; at the time I didn't care who, I just dove into a series of affairs with Mr Second-Bests and took the best of the lot. Don't get me wrong, I love him too, just in a mild, calmer - probably healthier - way.

I still miss my Irishman. I think maybe I always will.