i might look hot in green, but i’m no saint

In ALL, LIFE OBSERVATIONS by Stephanie Klein5 Comments

"You’re not Irish are you?"  Everyone normally assumes it, so of course, I was intrigued by the man who would soon become my first college boyfriend.

"And, how do you know that?"  I whipped around staring into the blacks of his eyes.  We were at The West End Gate, and I was sitting at the bar people watching, drinking seltzer with lime on the rocks.

"You’re too damn feisty."

"You don’t know me from Eve.  How do you know I’m feisty?"

"Well, my mother’s Irish, and you’re nothing like my mother.  Besides, I can just tell."  And with the smile, and steps closer to me, that preceded his statement, I believed him.  He was the all-knowing saint; I was our redheaded non-Irish sinner.  It was hot.

Comments

  1. Stephanie –

    I have read and I have wanted to comment and have held back. "I don't write like she does," I feared, "What if she checks out my blog." And putting my fears aside I must respond… isn't that how they all suck us in. A little quip, a nice line, a bit of truth and hook, line, and sinker we're biting.

    And I am married and occasionally miss the line a bit.

  2. I've never met an unfeisty Irish person, male or female. I think the Saint was just looking for a way to pay you what he knew you'd think was a compliment. Which it was, of course. 'Feisty' is one of those words that implies the sort of courage and daring and spontaneity wished for by the rest of us – we, with our mousey-brown hair and common genealogy. So, have you met his mum yet? What's she really like?

  3. That's it? Like a woman who brings her father, run from a man that brings up his mother on an initial meeting. It's never good.

  4. Something about a redhead

    I was engaged to a fiery redhead for six months prior to law school. She was 1/2 Irish and 1/2 Sicilian. That was a lethal temperment which went far beyond feisty. Her manner was something out of central casting – she was the queen of making scenes – Evangeline. I think you know what I mean.

    The relationship collapsed during my first year of law school and by the end of May, I had earned my stripes as a battle-worn veteran on the field of love.

    Never forget what the Boss said. When you want to get a job done, you call in the redhead.

  5. As a fiesty ass irish bitch, I'm insulted by your obvious inaccurate assumption. Irish chicks are the craziest, often to our detriment even. It's not always the best for us, but you certainly can't say we're not "feisty". So step off, bitch.

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