Friday, September 29, 2006
Dear Friends,
As most of you now know, after 9 and a half years together, She and I have decided to terminate our relationship based on a mutual understanding that I'm no longer romantically required in her life. Although I was kindly asked to stay in close proximity to witness, and indeed participate in a new, redefined partnership on a more collaborative basis with an unspecified number of local applicants, I have discovered that I no longer love Ireland or Irish people quite so much after all (in 36 months I never heard anyone espouse fidelity as a virtue - a post-Colonial, post-Catholic reaction maybe. Good luck in keeping up a stable+civil society for the next generation, guys) and would rather live somewhere, no, fucking anywhere else.
So bored of Dublin, tired of London (Hush now, Dr Sam, this is not the time to point out the obvious) and needing to get some distance between us, I made a snap decision about where to move on to. However, after being denied a work permit for Narnia, I have determined, through dartographic methods, that I would like to live in Toronto, the capital of Canada (after Ottawa).
Therefore I would like to announce that I'll be leaving exactly 3 weeks ago today without saying a proper goodbye to you all. Admittedly, I tried to see as many of you as preferable and I thank you for your kind words and even kinder physical gestures. Almost everyone has understood rather well the situation and been very fair and supportive. Several ladies have come forward and offered a consolation I thought highly generous and I'm truly sorry I declined/got scared and ran. It fair warms the cockles of my heart and the heart of my cockles. If it's any consolation, I've been beating myself silly over it ever since. I do admit that it was occasionally boring having had to put up with the same three holes for almost ten years, no matter how beautiful the fleshy frame around them. She tacitly accepted that I cheated on her but of course I never did. And je ne regrette rien...
...sauf que la fille D, la fille K et la fille Sans Nom sur l'autobus en Espagne qui was well up for it, man.
Blindly presuming none of you have slept with her yet, I won't bother to tell you where the front of the queue lies - you'll be able to see it on Google Earth if you're that interested - and whilst I could caution you against many dangers of such an outcome i'll simply warn you instead to do me the friggin' small of honour of not making it known to me. I can thus retain, no matter how misplaced, some measure of respect for you, allow the possibility of a return of some small portion of positive feeling for her, and, who knows, maybe even one day regain some miniscule self-respect of my own, if I knew where I'd left my sense of self.
I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank her colleagues and employer for initially taking 18 months of her life away from us both the very minute we arrived in Ireland, from anywhere between 7am to 12am for five, sometimes six and occasionally seven days a week. It really helped me prepare for the future as a single man. Also, you've been there all the way, helping her to make the tough business decisions that enabled her to finally remove me, close members of her family and even parts of her own personality from the way she lives today. It's just what she needed to really kickstart this next, more mature phase. I know she's safe in the good and caring hands of a multinational business software corporation and a large group of calm, well-adjusted co-workers, no, friends, who care so deeply about her that they would never let projections of their own difficulties in life cloud their advice and judgement. You can't see it but I salute you all.
And yet, I'm hardly blameless in all this, despite some overly partisan friends' benevolent whispers. Together we planted the seeds of our destruction and I added much of the fertiliser. Sadly, by the time i'd heard the right advice on Gardeners' Question Time and popped out for the weedkiller, she'd already started harvesting the crop and I was left alone, save for a redundant agricultural metaphor and a muddy, bloody trowel. For those of you that know a little bit of her life story, you should know that i find it impossible to hold her fully accountable for her actions, even the really fucking schizy ones, for longer than about 15 minutes before my anger crumbles at the thought of her upbringing. Don't hate her. That's my job and i'm doing it.
So should you see her walking down the road, be it Ladbroke Grove or Ranelagh Road, do say hello, do tread carefully and don't remind her of what a toxic fucking wasteland she's turned my heart into. She doesn't really want to know.
Take care, don't fall in love,
Nutgroist
|
As most of you now know, after 9 and a half years together, She and I have decided to terminate our relationship based on a mutual understanding that I'm no longer romantically required in her life. Although I was kindly asked to stay in close proximity to witness, and indeed participate in a new, redefined partnership on a more collaborative basis with an unspecified number of local applicants, I have discovered that I no longer love Ireland or Irish people quite so much after all (in 36 months I never heard anyone espouse fidelity as a virtue - a post-Colonial, post-Catholic reaction maybe. Good luck in keeping up a stable+civil society for the next generation, guys) and would rather live somewhere, no, fucking anywhere else.
So bored of Dublin, tired of London (Hush now, Dr Sam, this is not the time to point out the obvious) and needing to get some distance between us, I made a snap decision about where to move on to. However, after being denied a work permit for Narnia, I have determined, through dartographic methods, that I would like to live in Toronto, the capital of Canada (after Ottawa).
Therefore I would like to announce that I'll be leaving exactly 3 weeks ago today without saying a proper goodbye to you all. Admittedly, I tried to see as many of you as preferable and I thank you for your kind words and even kinder physical gestures. Almost everyone has understood rather well the situation and been very fair and supportive. Several ladies have come forward and offered a consolation I thought highly generous and I'm truly sorry I declined/got scared and ran. It fair warms the cockles of my heart and the heart of my cockles. If it's any consolation, I've been beating myself silly over it ever since. I do admit that it was occasionally boring having had to put up with the same three holes for almost ten years, no matter how beautiful the fleshy frame around them. She tacitly accepted that I cheated on her but of course I never did. And je ne regrette rien...
...sauf que la fille D, la fille K et la fille Sans Nom sur l'autobus en Espagne qui was well up for it, man.
Blindly presuming none of you have slept with her yet, I won't bother to tell you where the front of the queue lies - you'll be able to see it on Google Earth if you're that interested - and whilst I could caution you against many dangers of such an outcome i'll simply warn you instead to do me the friggin' small of honour of not making it known to me. I can thus retain, no matter how misplaced, some measure of respect for you, allow the possibility of a return of some small portion of positive feeling for her, and, who knows, maybe even one day regain some miniscule self-respect of my own, if I knew where I'd left my sense of self.
I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank her colleagues and employer for initially taking 18 months of her life away from us both the very minute we arrived in Ireland, from anywhere between 7am to 12am for five, sometimes six and occasionally seven days a week. It really helped me prepare for the future as a single man. Also, you've been there all the way, helping her to make the tough business decisions that enabled her to finally remove me, close members of her family and even parts of her own personality from the way she lives today. It's just what she needed to really kickstart this next, more mature phase. I know she's safe in the good and caring hands of a multinational business software corporation and a large group of calm, well-adjusted co-workers, no, friends, who care so deeply about her that they would never let projections of their own difficulties in life cloud their advice and judgement. You can't see it but I salute you all.
And yet, I'm hardly blameless in all this, despite some overly partisan friends' benevolent whispers. Together we planted the seeds of our destruction and I added much of the fertiliser. Sadly, by the time i'd heard the right advice on Gardeners' Question Time and popped out for the weedkiller, she'd already started harvesting the crop and I was left alone, save for a redundant agricultural metaphor and a muddy, bloody trowel. For those of you that know a little bit of her life story, you should know that i find it impossible to hold her fully accountable for her actions, even the really fucking schizy ones, for longer than about 15 minutes before my anger crumbles at the thought of her upbringing. Don't hate her. That's my job and i'm doing it.
So should you see her walking down the road, be it Ladbroke Grove or Ranelagh Road, do say hello, do tread carefully and don't remind her of what a toxic fucking wasteland she's turned my heart into. She doesn't really want to know.
Take care, don't fall in love,
Nutgroist
|
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