Under the table Ridlee’s knee begins to press against mine, which means she is about to succumb to a fit of giggling that will likely prove quite contagious, making us look like a couple of nasty blow-ins taking the piss out of the most famous matchmaker in Ireland.

The corners of my mouth threaten to rise and I work hard to suppress the giggle that’s rising out of my throat. Ridlee has less self-control and a bubble of laughter bursts forth from her mouth. Often this is enough to cause me to dissolve into puddles of laughter too, but I really don’t want to insult this nice man.

I reach down to pinch myself hard to try to offset the inevitable fit of giggles, but thankfully a buzzing noise causes both Ridlee and me to look up, momentarily distracted. From the depths of the pub crowd, emerge Micheál, Donal and Siobhán, each holding one of those restaurant buzzers that alert you when your meal is ready to be collected.

Ridlee and I stare, slack-jawed.

“Now, I know ye said ye weren’t gay, but I invited Siobhán too just in case you’re bi-curious and are hiding in the cupboard.” Henry closes his book and drains his pint. “Well, good night to ye all. My work here is done.” And with that he exits the pub leaving the five of us staring at one another.

Siobhán breaks the silence. “I feel that my presence here may be superfluous. My gaydar tells me that neither of you two chicks are my type, so I’m off.” She turns to Micheál and kisses him lightly on the cheek. “See you later. Don’t stay out too late; we’ve work tomorrow.” Then turning to  Donal, “Night, Donal. Be good.”

“See ye, Siobhán,” mumble the two lads into their pints, smiling like their mum’s just caught them with a couple of girls.

“I was hoping I’d bump into you again,” says Micheál, disarming me with his beautiful smile.

“Don’t you have phones in Ireland?” snorts Ridlee, quick as lightening.

I’m reminded of the agonising day I spent peeling potatoes with Mrs. O and watching my phone, and I’m grateful that my friend is there to speak for me while I pull myself out of this puddle of goo I have dissolved into on account of that smile.

“Evening, Ridlee,” says Micheál tipping his hat. “Lovely to see you too.”

Oh. My. God. That hat! Those eyes! Come on, Erin, get a grip.

With all the strength I can muster I steady my voice and cold as ice I acknowledge the greatest lover I’ve ever had with a perfunctory nod.“Micheál.”

He just smiles knowingly, then adds, “We do have phones, Ridlee. Even mobile ones, or cellphones as you Yanks call them, but I was out fishing all day where the reception was nonexistent. And, anyway, I had a feeling I’d bump into ye again.” He’s talking to both of us, but he’s looking at me.

“Gee, that’s too bad. ‘Cause we were just leaving,” retorts Ridlee, her voice ringing with mock disappointment, looping her arm through mine. “I’ve heard all about your fishing expeditions. I can imagine how inconvenient taking calls would be.”

And with that she marches me out of the pub leaving our two Romeos gawping after us. As we go through the revolving door, Ridlee explodes into laughter and I throw a quick glance back over my shoulder. Both Donal and Micheál are standing there watching us leave.

“Hah! What idiots! We showed them, eh, Erin?”

“We sure did, Rid. Fuck em!” I just wish I didn’t feel so sad.

“Where to, Sista?”

“Eh, could we just go home? I’m done in.”

“Sure thing. Lead on McDuff!”

“It’s ‘Lay on McDuff’,” I correct her.

“I like how quickly you bounce back, Erin, but I’m not sure I want to get laid just yet. Let’s just find the car, ok?”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m in the Bambino turning the key for the umpteenth time getting only a scratchy sound in response. Ridlee is in the passenger seat.

“You’re flooding the engine!” comes a voice from outside. I look around but I can’t see anyone. I try to turn the engine over one more time.

A white face fills the windscreen, and Ridlee and I scream, grabbing hold of one another.

“I’ve got mace! I’ve got mace!” yells Ridlee, presumably to deter an attack.

“They won’t know what mace is here,” I hiss at her, still trying desperately to get the car started. The hopeful serrated growling noise has been replaced by a pathetic click each time I turn the key.

“Pepper-spray, then! I’m armed. Be warned!” Ridlee is brandishing a small hot-pink can in front of our faces.

“Quit it, will ye. If that goes off you’ll blind us both.”

The face appears at the driver’s window. “Having trouble, ladies?” inquires Micheál, all convivial and charming. Donal appears at the passenger window causing Ridlee to jump.

“No. No trouble here, unless you’d call being harassed by a couple of bog-men ‘trouble’.” I don’t mean to sound so, well … bitter, but I am bitter. How dare he use me and then toss me aside without a thought?

“Here, Bog-man,” calls Micheál to Donal, who’s mooning in at Ridlee, who in turn is staring fixedly ahead as though he doesn’t exist.

“Huh?”

“Get back here and help push so we can help these ladies get on their way.” Michaél shifts his attention to me. “Okay, Erin, we’re gonna push ye to that hill and when you get a bit o’ speed up I want ye to throw it into second, okay?”

“I do know how to jump-start a car thank you!” I yell from up front.

“Of course ye do. Excuse me for trying to be helpful,” he mutters to Donal, but I hear him all the same.

“When I require your help, I’ll ask for it, Micheál,” I quip, aware that I may have gone too far. Both men are leaning over the tiny car, hands on the back windscreen. Micheál stiffens and makes to stand up.

“Ignore her!” yells Rid. “She’s just pissed that you used her and threw her aside but we’ll take the push thank-you.”

“Ridlee!” I hiss, but the car is moving and I have to grab the steering wheel. We begin to pick up speed. I can see the boys running in the rear view mirror. I throw the long gearstick into second and the car bounces to life with a splutter.

“Yay!” Ridlee and I shout in relief.

“Hey! Hey! Come back! Wait for us!”

I glance in the mirror and see the two lads running after the car, rather pathetically. I look to Ridlee, pleadingly. I know that I should know better but he’s just so damn cute.

“Okay,” she says, “but no sex. Promise?”

“Pinkie promise. We’ll just play with them a little.”

I slow the car down but leave my foot resting on the accelerator so that it doesn’t cut out. The boys catch up. I have to shout over the roar of the engine. “Well, I suppose we have to go for a drive to recharge the battery, if youse wanna come! There will be no hanky-panky and you have to jump in while the car’s still moving! Are ye game?”

Ridlee leans froward, flipping the front seat up so there’s a space for the boys to access the back. Donal looks as though he’s going to stop for a moment, but then he increases his pace and jumps on the small runner before throwing himself into the back. I speed up a little. Micheál is now jogging at a clip. I allow myself a small smile and think, Oh well. All is fair in love and war. He manages the jump, and soon the two men are squished into the back of the Fiat Bambino and we’re on our way to one of the most spectacular sites, as well as one of the most popular suicide spots, in Ireland. We’re off to the cliffs of Moher.