The only time I sometimes regret moving to Ireland is Christmas. It’s actually not that big of a deal in Sweden. But all this talk of family reminds me of how much I miss my own, Facetime is just not the same. At least the weather isn’t as cold as back home but sometimes I think I’d prefer that to this endless rain. Aidan has told me that Dublin isn’t actually that bad, that it actually rains much more in the West. At least I’m not there, I guess.
Erik hasn’t been messaging as much recently. All he talks about is when will I be coming home for good and how much he misses sex. Not so much about missing me.
Aidan has become a bit more distant too. We used to just spend hours drinking tea, smoking, and watching tv. But he’s been heading out more recently, spending time in the bar. Maybe I’m losing my touch with men, I don’t know.
I went to the pub to walk him home the other night. He was in his usual spot but I held off on going over to him when I saw he was talking to a pretty, slim brunette of about his age. She had long, curly brown hair. Next thing she has her arms draped around him, her long hair covering his head and they begin to kiss.
I didn’t know which way to look, but I couldn’t help getting turned on. Part of me wished it could be me with him; touching his long, thin arms and running my hands through his hair. Fortunately, they stopped after a while and he went to leave. Not sure how I would have managed if I had to undress him for her.
It took a few minutes for us to get back to the flat and I couldn’t help but ask him questions on the way. He was a bit “tipsy” as they call it over here.
“So, what was her name?”
“Marianne, I think?”
“You don’t know?”
“No, sure I only just met her.”
“Would you not prefer to be with someone you know?”
“Probably, but would they want to be with me?”
For a few moments a strange silence developed, so I switched the subject to football, he didn’t seem to notice and everything carried on as normal.
Oh, what is going on with me?