So I've made it as far as Vilnius. I was particularly looking forward to getting here as I was meeting up with a former sweetheart from Lithuania. We'd been seeing one another in Dublin last summer, not for very long but for long enough to be pretty enamoured with one another and for me to be a bit put out when he went home, initially to visit his dying nana (can't really gripe about that, I suppose) and then to stay, because he was tired of working in his shitty job in Dublin.
We kept in touch, and I emailed him when I was planning this trip to let him know that I'd be in town. Couldn't wait to meet up with him, he's easygoing, good fun, good company, awful cute and brilliant in bed. I couldn't help thinking that if he'd stayed in Dublin he could have kept me out of all kinds of trouble over the last year (I've been bold... at one stage earning myself the nickname "Hurricane Clare" for the devastation I was wreaking around me. I think it's a phase). But fucking hell, a year at home has changed him.
We kept in touch, and I emailed him when I was planning this trip to let him know that I'd be in town. Couldn't wait to meet up with him, he's easygoing, good fun, good company, awful cute and brilliant in bed. I couldn't help thinking that if he'd stayed in Dublin he could have kept me out of all kinds of trouble over the last year (I've been bold... at one stage earning myself the nickname "Hurricane Clare" for the devastation I was wreaking around me. I think it's a phase). But fucking hell, a year at home has changed him.
He was always very dismissive of Lithuania ("Prick Country") and Lithuanians ("Snakes") saying that it has no culture to speak of, after years of Russian occupation and the legacy of the Gulags. He's a pessimistic character anyway (I'm a horrible optimist) but he kept harping on at me for what he considers my stupid decision to visit the country, calling me naive and complaining about everything under the sun. Nothing does my head in like a whingebag, but for all his shiteing on about his wastrel fellow countrymen, he hasn't bothered his hole to get a job since he came back, and all he does is drink.
Admittedly I drink a lot myself, but I eat too. And work. And stuff.
Anyway, instead of the reunion I was looking forward to, I got 3 days of whining in between him being utterly wasted on some kind of cherry liqueur named after a dead statesman.
So I'm off on the night bus to Gdansk. Fuck that. I can do better.
