Why Irish men are dangerous, and how to approach them with caution.
The topic for today’s blog is rather serious. No matter who you are, or where you are, if you are a woman, you have undoubtedly encountered an Irishman.
And Irish men are dangerous. If you aren’t careful, you’ll end up a drunk, swooning, half-naked mess. Luckily, you have me, and I have provided you with a guide. Here are the three main reasons why Irish men are dangerous, and how to keep your pants on around them. In public.
The Problem: The Accent. Irish accents are sexy. All the time. In every case. There is no exception to this rule. Even the kind of Irish accents that are barely understandable because the vowels are so warped. I met an Irish man last night and the moment he opened his mouth I was a goner. It didn’t matter what he said. I thought it was hot. He could have been spewing the most ridiculous crap and I still would have been there smiling. I swear to God if he had at some point listed fruits, I would have found it both fascinating and sexy. This is one reason why Irish men are dangerous. Their accents make everything sound hot. Apple. Banana. Cherry. Date. Me. Or. Just. Take. Me. To. Bed. Just keep saying words that involve many vowels.
The Approach: When interacting with an Irishman, it is completely unacceptable to say anything about the accent being sexy. They’re used to it, especially Irish men in Boston, because Boston, as we all know, is populated with dumb girls who say things like, “OMG your accent is so sexy!” and American men who live in Southie and think it makes them Irish by association. The most effective thing to do is nothing at all. Do not mention the accent. Do not ask him to say words that highlight the sexiness of said accent. Do not ever tell him that his accent is awesome. The words will threaten to escape your mouth time and time again, but you’ve got to lock that shit up and throw the key in the river. You also must avoid, at all costs, staring at him in wonder with your head cocked to one side only half-listening to the words he’s saying because you’re so enthralled by his accent. Act normal. Pretend he’s a grimy frat boy from Jersey. Think about unsexy things, like sewer rats, garbage trucks, and those obese people who walk around naked in the gym locker room for extended periods of time. Sidenote: Do they ever work out? When I arrive, they’re naked. When I leave, they’re naked. Yesterday I saw a woman shaving her armpits at the sink and I almost threw up. There’s an unsexy thought for you.
The Problem: The Calories. Irish men drink, and they drink well. There is no “light” beer. There is no “diet” soda. They drink all kinds of beer with all kinds of carbs and calories, and they don’t understand that most women can’t drink a lot of beer like that without turning into cellulicious tubs of lard. This is a huge issue. On the one hand, we have to look good naked. On the other hand, we can’t order some light diet soda-water-related beverage around them, because then they are unimpressed, and the goal is to impress.
The Approach: There are several ways to approach this, and I suggest you do all of them, every time.
First, go to the gym and build lean muscle so your basic metabolic rate will be faster. The more muscle you have on your body, the more calories your body burns at rest. Don’t worry about getting jacked. It’s borderline impossible if you’re a woman, unless you drastically change your lifestyle as part of a fitness competition.
Second, do cardio every day if possible. That way, you are at a caloric deficit when you arrive at the bar, and you can afford the calories.
Third, drink scotch and make it last. Whiskey works as well. If possible, drink it on the rocks. If you can’t do it, grow a pair.
Fourth, drink beer. I know this seems counterintuitive, but one or two won’t kill you. Just order a real beer. Better yet, let the Irishman pick.
The problem: Everything they do is adorable and sexy, because they are Irish, and consequently makes us want to take our pants off as soon as possible. I wouldn’t know what this is like because I avoid pants at all costs, but you get the picture. It is a scientific fact that normal, everyday tasks are hotter and more adorable when performed by men from Ireland. They are even cute when parallel parking and doing laundry. Think of the most menial, monotonous tasks, like checking email and putting on shoes. When Irishmen do these things, it is hot. Think of the things you hate doing, like cleaning, and getting parking tickets. When Irishmen do these things, it is hot. I don’t know this from personal experience, but I’d be willing to bet that Irish men are even cute when serving jury duty. Do they have jury duty in Ireland? Food for thought.
The approach: Well, there’s nothing you can do about this one. You just have to keep it to yourself. When he takes out his passport in lieu of ID to get into a bar, you can’t coo. You have to pretend it’s normal. When he opens a door, you can’t go all googly-eyed. OMG, he stood up, how hot. OMG he waved the bartender over, how adorable. You can think it, but you can’t let on that you’re thinking it. The following phrase will never leave your lips: “OMG I LOVE IT!” Never. Lock it down. When all else fails, picture James Earl Jones doing the same thing. Everything Irish men do is sexy and adorable; everything James Earl Jones does is serious, honorable, and regal. If James Earl Jones took out his passport in lieu of ID to get into a bar, you wouldn’t find it adorable, you would wish you had thought to bring your passport because the world is a serious place full of serious people and serious people use passports for ID instead of driver’s licenses. Which Irish men don’t have. Because in Ireland, people drive on the left side of the road. Which is adorable and hot. BUT NOT WHEN JAMES EARL JONES DOES IT. James Earl Jones drives on the left side of the road because he is serious, regal, and honorable. Whenever you find yourself on the verge of cooing, just think this word over and over:
MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA MUFASA
See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?
