Here's the thing about hostels -- when you're sitting on your bed at 9 p.m. and your roommate says, "I think you should go out tonight," you think about it. Particularly since as your roommate is saying it, he's not wearing a shirt, and the view is not unpleasant.
I really did try to book estrogen-filled rooms, but the hostel had mystery guests (I never really determined what that meant) and I am now sleeping in a co-ed room. Fortunately, they're not strangers; no, we went out clubbing. Now we're tight.
This pub we went to is a few kilometers away in Lisdoonvarna. Unbeknownst to me until today, Lisdoonvarna is home to a matchmaking festival every September. So, yes, I went to a matchmaking party.
I did not avail myself of the man's services, largely because I was hugely out of my element and the irrational part of me was afraid they were going to marry me off right then. (To an Irishman! Why was I worried?)
Then I awkwardly not danced and not drank. This caught the attention of Scott, who found me interesting for the same reason any other European man has -- I'm a foreigner. Then he found me interesting because I'm Mormon. He asked if I had a horse and carriage and if my father had a long beard. I told him he was thinking of the Amish or the Mennonites. Then we practically yelled into each other's ears our thoughts on religion. It was very exciting -- much more so than the man who slung his arm around me and slurred something at me multiple times. I could not put my hand on a Bible and swear he was speaking English.
Well, lights out for tonight. Not sorry I went, not sorry I left early, not sorry I don't drink, even if Scott thinks it's lunacy.