How to Fight Loneliness: Join a Stag Party

I left work on Friday absolutely determined to have a brilliant weekend in Dublin. The city has yet to win me over, and I've been feeling rather low and homesick for London. There are aspects of Dublin that I prefer to London, such as the friendliness of the people. But I just don't like the city as a place very much. I've found it restrictively small and comparatively quiet as far as entertainment outside the pubs. I was resolute in my desire to change this, so I spent the night wandering around the city on foot, trying to find something particularly endearing that I could fall for. I only succeeded in wearing myself out.

The next morning began in much the same way. I went to go buy a replacement part for the light fixture in my room that I broke. Well, it was already half broken, and I broke it the rest of the way while trying to make the lightbulb stay in despite it being half broken. I had intended to repair the light fixture that afternoon, but I couldn't access the fusebox. My key for the house didn't fit into the lock on the garage, and none of my flatmates were home to provide me with the proper key.

Instead I wandered into the city centre again. I moped around feeling lonely because the few people I know here were busy. I quickly became weary and incredibly hungry, and I had a strong urge to just head home. I was lucky I hadn't been able to restore light to my room, because the pervading darkness I would have encountered there finally persuaded me to stay out and make my own fun. My first priority was finding a decent cheap meal. This is close to impossible in the city centre after a certain time. My usual refuge is a sandwich shop, but most of them close fairly early. Eventually I ducked into a kebab shop. I must have been nearly starved, because my kebab tasted wonderful. Over the meal, I decided to go to Kehoe's to see if I could make a new friend. And I did. Several, in fact.

I'd squeezed through the hoardes of people outside and at the bar and had found a seat at a counter. I was sipping my lager and pondering my next move when an older guy approached me. "Your boyfriend's not here yet?" he asked. The last chat I had about being single ended with back-handed compliments about my "serial killer" eyes, but I decided to see where this conversation led. I told him that I had just moved to Dublin and didn't know many people yet. He invited me to join him and his gang of rugby team friends who were out for a stag do. I couldn't see why not, so I ventured outside and met the rest of the boys.

I found myself going through a few more repetitions of the standard conversation I have with everyone I meet in Dublin. I'm from Minnesota. It's on the border of Canada. Pretend my left hand is the US. New York is somewhere near the tip of my middle finger. California's at the heel of my palm. Minnesota's somewhere near where my index finger meets my palm (I need to start carrying a map of the US). I'm in Dublin for four months. I'm working in advertising. I live in Rathmines. I came here from London. Because my visa expired and I could either go home or come here. Rehashing my story has become a bit tiresome, but I still enjoyed telling it to new people.

I'd been chatting with a group of three or four guys when suddenly an adjoining group of guys turned in my direction and started singing, "I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright I need you, baby..." It turns out they were the rest of the stag do. And that this stag do was only the pre stag do. The husband-to-be is getting married in New York in October, and will be having at least one more party in Killarney before then.

Though I did receive a surprising number of comments about my teeth (by American standards my teeth are not particularly white, nor remarkably straight), no-one drew any comparisons between me and a serial killer. I enjoyed some drinks, was spoken to in Italian, watched hilarious drunken dancing and tried to determine when people were being serious and when they were taking the piss (most of the time it's the latter). Even if it was a little strange, it was good fun. And much better than moping around by myself in the dark.

Pubs revisited: Kehoe's