As a former travel blogger turned storyteller, it only makes sense to tell a story that occurred while traveling. I thought I’d give it a Harry Potter-esque title to make it seem like a scholarly and magical tale, but far be it from such. That being said, it does include a guy who Hufflepuff’d just because he couldn’t Slytherin. I can smell my Pulitzer already.
Yes, this is The Tale of the Dislocated Knee and the Unsolicited Dick Pic.
Ah Ireland, you do know how to make an entrance.
Arriving at the front desk of our hostel, the first words that came out of my mouth were “Do you sell pub crawl tickets here?” Having been to Ireland two years ago I was excited to show Liv the fun that was the Dublin pub crawl.
Getting glam in a crowded hostel room isn’t the easiest. Thankfully having a compact mirror with me, I applied my makeup while crouched under the top bunk. “That’ll do!” I declared sitting up quickly with a bang, forgetting about the metal framing above my head. Ouch. Shuffling past the girls and crawling over open suitcases, I plug in my trustee curling iron to be greeted with a loud spark followed by a grey cloud smelling of burnt hair. As a girl who ALWAYS has her hair curled, tossing my iron in the bin was a sad farewell.
Once Liv and I were ready and dolled up, we descended the stairs in excitement. “Wait,” Liv cautioned, “I don’t have my phone.” “This is NIGHT ONE LIV,” I exclaimed laughing, not foreshadowing there was more to come.
Bar Three – The Meeting
The free drinks flowed by the third bar. After meeting nearly everyone on the crawl, we ended up befriending a group of 30-somethings who were happy to spread the wealth will no ill intentions. While one of the guys was getting a round, I spotted an attractive guy outside of the group, noting his pub crawl bracelet. “It tastes much better in Ireland doesn’t it,” I chatted him up, referring to the Guinness in his hand.
We ended up talking at length about careers and education; mainly because he had just finished 14 years of med school, residency, etc., in order to become a neurosurgeon. As much as he loved the surgical field, he wanted to take his studies of the brain to focus more on mental health. Very noble of him, I thought.
Now I want to mention, this guy is from LA, and definitely had the charisma of a stereotypical Californian. Confident and charming, but arrogant. That being said, I was intrigued. Let’s call him Dr. Dude.
Bar Four – The Flirtation Escalates
Though there was a clear attraction between me and Dr. Dude, I was loving getting to know all the other guys on the pub crawl. They were just wanting to have a good time, no intentions of pulling (aka wheeling for my Canadians out there).
Dr. Dude, being the confident guy he was, didn’t take long to step in. “I bet you are a good kisser,” he proclaimed. Not being one for PDA, I gave him a quick peck for the heck of it. “Nahh, nahh,” he shook his head. Looking me dead in the eyes and licking his lips, he explained, “you’ve got to let it marinate for a bit.” A bit of Guinness came back up my throat. “I’ll be back,” I turned, running to Liv unable to speak from laughter. Gross Dr. Dude, gross.
Bar Six – Shit Goes Down
3AM and properly drunk, I was killing it on the dance floor. I had a group of the guys in a dance circle with me, Dr. Dude included, when I suddenly fell and literally hit the dance floor.
“Fuck,” I mumbled to myself realising my knee had dislocated. “You okay?”, Dr. Dude asked as he pulled me up by my arms (far from a sweeping rescue). “Did someone push you?” one of the guys asked in concern. “No, just dislocated my knee,” I said calm and collected, yet in a high pitch that hardly hid the pain.
Hobbling off, I found Liv, who was having an absolute ball mopping the dance floor while the staff tried to take the mop away from her. We went outside to chat, and realised how late it was. The next day we had a bus tour of Southern Ireland booked, so needed to be awake in 3 hours.
Dr. Dude came out of the bar on a mission. “Listen I’m going to head back to my AirBNB, you should come with me,” he suggested. Not so keen, I replied “That’s probably not a good idea, but we can hang out tomorrow on the pub crawl again?” Noticing he was annoyed and me not liking confrontation, I added “Plus, my knee is messed up and I need to wake up soon.” He strode off on his way and I limped off on my way with Liv.
Arriving at the hostel, I noticed Dr. Dude had texted me. I quickly went from thinking he was a semi-cool guy, to quite the dick. The conversation went like so:
Dr. Dude: [insert AirBNB address here]
Me: Keep in touch tomorrow?
Dr. Dude: Nope
Dr. Dude: You want to see me, I want to see you
Me: Bad timing to dislocate a knee lol
Dr. Dude: I agree 100% although I also realise the ideal night doesn’t exist. Even tomorrow there will be something that makes hanging out less ideal. And the next day. And the day after.
Umm excuse me? I think to myself. I don’t need an excuse to say no to a hookup, but as far as excuses go, a dislocated knee is quite adequate, Doctor!
Me: We will be back in Dublin tomorrow evening. I’m still limping so hoping to heal it before the day trip.
Dr. Dude: Well I have Aleve here, it’s the best anti-inflammatory medicine you can buy over the counter.
I am so over this conversation.
Dr. Dude: I have a surprise for you.
Me: A surprise?
Dr. Dude: [Insert aggressive dick pic, followed by] lol
Me: Not a surprise anymore.
I didn’t respond again.
For a neurosurgeon going into psychiatry, Dr. Dude has a lot to learn about how to treat a woman. Including that our brains aren’t wired to accept unsolicited dick pics with joy.
The next morning, Liv and I woke up broken mentally and physically. Mix a hangover, with 3 hours of sleep, with an all day bus trip, with a freshly dislocated knee, and you’ve got yourself a splendid start to a 10 day trip.
All madness aside, we had the most incredible trip, full of more laughter than I knew my belly could handle.
Have you ever received some unwanted explicit texts? How did you handle it? Would love to hear some funny stories.