Luck of the Irish

I've been to Ireland twice. The first time I went, I was visiting family; the second time I went, I was visiting a friend studying in Galway and basically living in a frat house. This is a story from the second trip.

My friend Beth was living with 3 guys: Ronan, James and Finn. James had had his teeth kicked in the week before, and besides that was unavailable because Beth was hooking up with him. There was also Michael, who -it took me a while to figure out-did not actually live there. All were attractive and all impossible to understand. Michael had possibly the best Irish accent in all of Ireland, and also didn't have red hair, making him the most attractive.

I was in love.

The problem with Irish boys is that they have a very, very hard time doing anything besides drinking, playing video games and speaking in their Irish accents. This is a problem because if you are in Ireland for a limited amount of time and you have one specific Irishman you want to hook up with, you have an agenda, and watching him act like an idiot is not part of it.

I'm pretty reserved when I'm not drinking, but like anyone else I can turn into a shameless shitshow after throwing back a few. As I ran around Galway with the other Americans one night, downing pints of Guiness that I think may have been the exchange for slapping my ass, I had Michael in the back of my mind; he would be mine!

We got back to the Irish frat house to find Michael and other less attractive Irishmen, with girls I could only assume were hookers. I managed to subtly (ok, not at all) throw myself on Michael and got him to get the other girls to leave. We were alone at last, except for the drunkard that was passed out and snoring next to us on the couch.

We made a fort out of a blanket and started making out under it, but eventually the snoring got to be too much for me and I suggested that we head over to Michael's apartment.

He groaned, and informed that his apartment was "sooo far away" and it would take "forever" to get there. Beth had told me earlier about the laziness of Irish boys, so I decided to chance it. We climbed out the window (Irish frat boys don't use doors) and into the near-daylight. It turned out that Michael lived on the other side of the student apartment complex, approximately a 49 second walk.

We get to his bedroom and continue where we left off. After giving him the "no glove no love" ultimatum, I climbed atop the condomed Michael. I was getting ready to get off him and switch positions when I looked down at our naked loins and realized that I'd just perioded all. Over. Him.

I freaked out and got back into position. He asked what was wrong and I said I couldn't tell him, and that I couldn't get off of him. Obviously that freaked him out, but I was clutching him too tightly for him to do anything. I finally had to explain to him that I may have gotten my period during sex, and that it was all over him. I think it took him a second to recall what a period was, but once he did, he said I could grab a towel and hop in the shower.

I thought about this, but was convinced that he would try to look, and I didn't want him to see the mess, so I grabbed a pillow and placed it on his face. In my delusional, sleep deprived and drunk ass mind, I was convinced that he would try to peek, so I pressed down on the pillow, essentially suffocating him.

I finally pumped myself up enough to get off of him, and with a shudder realized that I had made a MESS on him. I informed him that he would have to take a shower too. For whatever reason he thought I meant with ME, so that's what we did, in the TINIEST shower ever. I still had my makeup on from the night before, so not only did Michael see my period blood, but he also saw me looking like a raccoon.

It was not my finest moment.

He ended up running across the street for me to get tampons from a girl...but apparently they don't use tampons. He essentially came back with a bag of diapers for me; I was wearing a thong and leggings- pads would never work. I ran back to Beth's, grabbed a tampon, and returned to Michael's, where he seemed to have completely forgotten about the period incident.

We started making out and he tried to get it on again, informing me that he didn't care about my period, he was going home that weekend anyway and his mother could wash his sheets.

Those lazy Irish boys...