Page 9 of Experiments in Offline Dating

“Shall we go to the bar first and purchase ourselves some courage?”

I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. “Yes, please, Jackie. That is actually exactly what I need right now.”

“Glad to hear you say so. The bar is a great place to meet a fella.”

I gulped. So. We’re just doing this. Right now. Like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do, and I should definitely not run screaming.

The pub was much darker and cooler than the square, but there was music and there were enough people to lend the bar a buzz without being too crowded. I put on my Loop earplugs to cut a bit of the background noise.

“First one’s my shout. What’ll you have?”

“Oh, thank you. Well, I think I sort of have to have a Guinness, don’t I? It’s my first drink in Ireland.”

“I’ll join you, then. Two pints of Guinness, please, Bobby.” The bartender nodded and started to pull a velvety pint, tipping each glass until nearly full, then putting them down to settle while we waited.

Jackie was a magnet. It seemed that everyone knew him, and they all had a hello or a handshake or a story. He was a celebrity here.

“There’s himself! Can I buy you a drink, Jackie?”

“Oh, hiya, Ronny. Let me introduce you to Mira here. She’s only just arrived from the States and is looking for a husband.”

Holy fucking shit!

Four gentlemen at the bar craned to look my way, their smiles stretching, and I took an involuntary half step back.

“Nice to meet you, Mira. I’m Padraig.” One man shamelessly stepped around Jackie and squeezed in next to me at the bar with his hand out.

“It’s Maya, actually. Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand, but he didn’t let go.

“So, you’re looking for an Irish husband, then, is it? And you would move over, like?”

Holy crap. Please let go of me. I’m not ready! How were we talking about husbands? I had asked Jackie for a few dates. No one said anything about husbands!

I laughed nervously. He still didn’t let go of my hand.

My eyes darted to Jackie for rescue, and he gave me a smile and nodded encouragingly. He couldn’t be serious. I was thirty-eight, and while I didn’t know the age of this gentleman, I could tell that computers were probably still newfangled to him. His hand was so hot and moist.

Don’t be rude. Don’t be rude! “Oh . . . I, uhh . . . You never know!”

“Stop hogging all the girls, Padraig.” Another man came up to interrupt, and I was relieved to have a polite reason to break the handhold.

“Hello. I’m Maya.” I guess this is just how things are done here. I shook the new man’s hand with a smile and then stole my hand quickly back.

“And I’m Cathal.” Cathal was even older than Padraig. He flashed me a big smile that was missing several teeth. “Jackie there tells me you’re here looking for a husband.”

I laughed. Okay. Okay. Breathe. You know the protocol. This is going to be much easier if you just play along and try to have fun with it. I slipped my peopling mask firmly in place. “Word gets around fast, doesn’t it?”

“Small town, you know. I’ve a very pretty farm up the way there. Road frontage. Can you cook, Mira?”

“Of course I can. But the real question is, do you have a death wish, Cathal?” I was a pretty good cook but decided to lean in. He coughed out a laugh.

“Ah, well. With those big brown eyes of yours, I guess I could learn to live with a frozen pizza or two.”

We laughed and the bartender handed me a pint.

“Padraig here is my son. Now, I know you’re thinking I’m lying, because I look not a day over twenty, but it’s the God’s honest truth.” Cathal grabbed Padraig tight around the shoulder and pressed their faces close together. “See?” They both smiled the same jack-o’-lantern smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

Okay, this is kinda cute actually. “No! You’ve got to be brothers!”