Some shit went down in Belfast

Belfast

I had a lads’ weekend away in Belfast a few weeks back. I knew it was going to be somewhat mental. I could feel it.

 

After years of random paranoia, I’ve now seen enough NHS specialists to convince me that all I need to do is be awesome, chill the fuck out and have a good time. Belfast was the perfect opportunity to make this work. It was the first time I wasn’t nervous about checking in at the airport, or finding the digs, or what might happen with women. It was the first time I was happy to sit in a pub with my mates for hours on end, getting pissed and trading stories like a lad. I wasn’t arsed about the huge costs of getting a round in (okay, no, I was, but not overly so.)

 

We stayed in the Linen House, the cheapest B and B we could find. It was also possibly the dirtiest in Ireland, and ran by an absolute cock of an Eastern European. Arrogant about payments, double-checking us like we’re trying to rip him off, and can barely speak English himself anyway so reasoning with him is a double whammy of difficulty. The check-in room was also across the way from the main building, so we had to walk through some shitty backstreet Belfast area to get from the reception to the digs. Dodgy as fuck. A place to stay, more than anything, during the booze carnival of a weekend.

 

For most of my life, getting pissed has meant getting paranoid. I forget everything when I’m drunk. I imagine my mates are talking about me out of earshot. I perceive women to hate me drunk. I rarely pull unless I’m sober. And, of course, the price of alcohol is horrific. I would always blame the alcohol for the paranoia, like violent people do for the fights they get in. I was wrong. I just WAS paranoid, and alcohol made it worse. I have- very recent- learned to chill out, enjoy my friends’ company and not go ballistic. I’ve also learned to hold myself in high regard- to love myself, if you like. The first night of the weekend was the first night out with this group of all-male friends I’d had in AGES- since before I spent time in the Psychology service working on anxiety issues and self-esteem. So basically, it was a test. That’s why I allowed myself to drink so Goddamn much.

 

So what happened? Well, I actually chatted a few girls up, which is a severe rarity. Did my typical trick of seeing a girl I like, approaching her, then getting cock-blocked by her Annie Lennox-lookalike friend only to end up giving my number to said friend. Then, of course, when she starts texting me the next day, I have no fucking idea who she is.

 

By this time, of course, I’m drunk again and I’ve pulled a bird who’s a fair bit bigger than me, shall we say. We leave the club towards the end and I’ve no idea where my mates are, but I don’t care because I’m staying with her now and I’m not fucking it up. I show her where I’m staying (through a series of photograph reminders on my phone). We make our way there by taxi and when I arrive the B&B manager wants me to pay extra for her to be there, so I pay again. I’m still wasted so this isn’t so much a problem at this point. I push her into the (unclean) shower room, pull her jeans down, sit her on the toilet and lick her out. A few minutes later we swap over and she smokes me off. We grab our clothes and pile into the room, where one of our team has come back early. As the group is split between 2 rooms, I don’t even know if this is my bed, let alone my room. I smash her in missionary for about half an hour. It’s a plumber night though, as we’re both pretty wasted. It’s my first shag in two years. And she ain’t pretty.

 

The next morning I walk her to a place where she can get a taxi. We swap numbers and she disappears. Then I go meet my mates at a breakfast place. We continue to get pissed throughout the day. I haven’t changed my clothes since the morning of the flight. Apparently, neither has anyone else.

 

We go back to the hotel in the afternoon for a kip to recharge for the next night.

 

I can’t take it eventually and have a quiet wank whilst everyone is sleeping. I smear my load down the wall-side of the bed.

 

Later, when we’re planning to go out, the team are sat on the bed that I was wanking in. There’s no reason for them to put their hand down the back of the bed, but THAT was the most intense moment of the holiday. One of the lads commented that it “smells weird” when he came in from the other room.

 

For nightlife out there, you can’t go wrong with the classiness of Apartment Bar. You need to check this place out. Scrub up first.

 

I can’t remember which night this was, but at around 3am after trawling bars and clubs, we rolled into a local chippy. On the way out we spotted a young 18-year-old Christina Ricci lookalike- about 18, short, dark hair, slim, huge natural tits. Of course, my banter is horiffic and my mates’ is much better, so they fire in. Unfortunately, so do two Africans, so this girl has four big guys trying it on. Before long my mates square up to these Africans. Neither side backs down. In seconds Macko has ran towards a guy, haybailing like a motherfucker, and absolutely annihilated him. Bean has leathered another of the guys, but in the process of this a hundred other Africans have arrived on the scene, emerging from dark alleyways, coming out of the drains and swinging off nearby lamposts. Before they can destroy my mates, the screech of a police siren deafens everyone. I cross the road and watch the police arrest Macko and Bean. Chistina Ricci and her equally fit mate have fucked off down the street, never to be seen by any of us again.

 

After a few days, (and a few dirty text messages) I add the Annie Lennox lookalike on Facebook. Her profile name is different to the name she gave me in her texts. Her Facebook profile pic has 2 girls in it. I recognise them both but I still have no recollection of giving my number to either of them. Eventually, she drops the bomb, telling me she’s “the specky one”. Devvo’d.

 

It was supposed to be a mini budget holiday but instead it became one of the most expensive weekends of my life. I’m honestly not arsed, though, as it was also the best lads’ weekend away ever. Partly because of the crazy shit we did, and partly because my head is finally in the right place. I’m at peace, I think.

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