The Girl Who Cried Wolf

This is getting a tad repetitive to the point where I swear people are going to think I'm making this all up - like the girl who cried wolf too many times. But then, life is a series and a pattern of events - or at least mine has been so far. There was that group of guys actively pursuing me in my earlier twenties (all whom I thought were actually gay - "Oh, you mean this is a date? I thought you were gay,") and then the whole debacle of married men (and then R. not believing me for months on end - "Are you sure he was married? Were you on drugs that night....? Are you making this up....?"). And now, I seem to have a PROBLEM with fucking Irish guys coming into my room unannounced at UNGODLY hours, and ATTEMPTING TO GET INTO MY BED. Before anybody else says that these are isolated incidences, let it be on record that it's happened to me THREE times (well, two times, with the third one being a knock on the door and attempt to get into my room by saying, "I love Australia," crap). I have one other friend and a colleague who have both encountered the same thing (although theirs were more of random people wanting to "have a chat"), so there's definitely something awry in the Irish DNA.

Call it in breeding.

Let this blog entry be evidence in case something happens to me in the next three weeks. Housemate DANNY (there, I've named and shamed,) comes back on a Sunday night totally out of it. Definitely too much to drink and DEFINITELY on drugs. I am already wary, and I'm already sensing that something might happen so I try to avoid him and disappear off into my room. I already sense that he may try to come in, (always trust your sixth sense,) but also realise that I don't have the fucking key to my door. I then tell myself that I am just being paranoid and then head to bed around 11:30pm. Then, I am woken by a huge figure IN MY FUCKING bedroom and there he is, trying to GET INTO BED WITH ME. What he was saying to me, I have no idea, as in the best of times, I can't understand him as all he does is grunts, (think: somebody trying to talk with six slices of white bread stuffed in their mouth, and there you have it). You'd know if it was a case of somebody being totally out of it and thinking that they were in their own bed ("Uh. What are you doing in my bed?"), but trust me, this wasn't one of those situations.

At this stage, I am scared. I would have been ruder and have yelled and probably would have attempted to push him out of the bed, but I didn't know how he'd react and what.....he would do to me. So this is what I said instead:

"DANNY. I. WANT. YOU. OUT. OF. MY. ROOM. LEAVE. NOW!!!!"

Tonight, we're ignoring each other and I absolutely hate him. HOW DARE HE BE SO DISRESPECTFUL. I am sleeping with a pair of scissors by my bedside.

Postscript: 2 weeks later.....
Okay, we're officially ignoring each other which is fine by me. I know that once May is over, I will never see him again, and I really couldn't care less.

I told a few people at work what had happened, and after initial hilarity with everybody rolling on the floor in partial disbelief and laughter, (the social worker looked at me in amazement and went, "That's unbelievable. That's never happened to me." and then I pointed out that he is a guy), one of my colleagues made a very good point. She said that if you're in your 30's and sharing with strangers in Ireland, and not sharing your friends or with your partner or have a house of your own, there must surely be something wrong with you. (After all, the "normal" men who are single and in their 30's would still be living at home with his mum.) My colleague continued to say that house sharing in your 30's become less of a viable option as most people generally hook up by that stage, and your choice of sharing with people who are decent and "normal" become increasingly limited. Hmm, she has a point there, but where does this leave me......?!!? I refuse to consider the thought of sharing with a boy (it's just his excuse to have a replacement mother,) and then I look at some photos from a thirty-something year old friend and have another horrible thought: women in their thirties are limited to middle aged men as the thirty-something year old men are chasing after the twenty-something tail. How depressing. Stupid boys.