I haven’t written anything in the last couple of days. Guess I failed that challenge. Again. I shrug my shoulders and don’t care. The days I cared about meticulously doing what I said I was going to do are long gone. I promised myself that I would go to bed at 12 o’clock each day. “Create routines”. Fuck that.
When I logged into my website, I noticed a spike in traffic on June 16. “That’s interesting,” I thought and I dove in what I published around those days. My letter to a date 2 years ago. Congratulations readers. You care about my dating life. Even about parts of my dating life that happened 2 years ago. I’m not sure whether I find that pathetic or I’m fascinated by it. I have 6 journals full of dating stories and have always contemplated publishing those. The things I have done, seen, experienced… Yes. It would make hilarious reads. At work I earn with money with trying to figure out what people want & would pay big bucks for. And here it is .You want my dating life. Unfortunately this website is not making me a single dime. And unfortunately for you, I hardly ever give people what they really want. So for the dating stories you’ll have to wait until I have more to say about that. But it will come. I promise. I think. (Hi people I date/once dated!)
Today I would like to address the reason why I wasn’t around for a couple of days. I just got back from San Francisco. I switched from my life in San Francisco to my life in Dublin. Yes. I address that as 2 separate lives. Because that’s what they are. I’m a different person depending on the city I am in. With a different group of friends. Different views on things. And I feel differently. In San Francisco I am happy. In Dublin I am numb.
I never really wanted to move to Dublin. I never wanted to move at all. I was forced to. I had a fabulous 1.5 year in the US and then my visum expired. It’s a common pain for immigrants. American visas are not some form of currency you can get just about anywhere. You need to be lucky or courageous. Seriously. If you want to get a legit work permit, you need to be lucky because it’s a lottery. If you want to go the “courageous” way, you find a partner and get married. I wasn’t lucky and I didn’t want to get married (neither did my boyfriend btw). So I had to return to Europe. So here I am. Sometimes life kicks you in the balls and the only thing you can do is get up. Even if it hurts. Not that I have any idea what it’s like to be kicked in the balls. I always wanted to do it though. Kick someone in the balls real hard.
I feel slightly ashamed writing this. Not that I want to kick someone in the balls, but that I am complaining about my life in Dublin. I’m pretty sure a lot of you reading this, wished they could move somewhere else, but never did so. Should I be ashamed about that? I actually don’t think so. Moving somewhere else is really not hard if you want it enough. And I can’t help it that you might just not want it enough.
Anyway. I am back in Ireland. I didn’t really want to come back, but this is my home now. Thank god I have my boyfriend & dog here. That makes things way easier. They are the two biggest and most valuable souvenirs I brought back from the States. The bridges between my life there and my life here. Boy am I a lucky bastard to have a boyfriend moving across the world for me. That suddenly makes those 6 diaries full of temporary dating stories look like nothing. It’s kind of a full circle. I moved to the States for a guy (surprised? Maybe for a next story!) and came back with another one.
Here we are in Ireland. This was the best place for us to be together. It’s not like we really wanted to come to Dublin that badly. It was convenient to immigrate here. Spain or Italy would have been more preferred locations. Or San Francisco. After all, San Francisco is now my home. No matter where I/we will go next.