Date 38

 

 

Since I began 40 days, I have been receiving numerous emails and requests insisting that a trip to the Copper Face Jacks had to be included within the dating mix. Indeed, a dating journey in Ireland would not be complete without a trip to what is deemed as the Irish Singles Institution.  Therefore, date 38 necessitated a date with my wingwoman and numerous other singles at this singles mecca.

 

In the last 5yrs, I’d been in Coppers once and I hadn’t really planned on going there for another 5yrs.  But, this Singlelista will try out anything and everything in search for that Mr. Right. I didn’t know whether I was scared or excited as my wingwoman and I headed in the doors of Coppers.  The other thing to point out is that I was doing this sober!  Yes, this Singlelista was looking at Coppers without the beer goggles. Can it be done?  I ask the question.

 

It was 11.30pm  We were two eager beavers as we walked through the singles doors.  A smell of stale alcohol hit me, a breeze of hormones whisked passed.  The mood had changed. It was pretty much empty, but in a sense, it felt like the game was on.

 

I’ve learned a few things about attraction the last while, many through my own mistakes.  However, one pivotal point to mention is the role of eye contact.   Eye contact can be used to convey attraction,  sexual orientation, showing  their interest.  Initially, eye contact is made between two people and then one looks away.  This looking away activity continues for a while, when one decides to miss the opportunity or explore it.

 

I’ve become to realize, this looking away attitude was common on the streets of Dublin during daylight hours. The Irish were leaving dating opportunities slip through the net everywhere. This was on the contrary in Coppers, the eyes seemed hungry.  My wingwoman and I walked around; two Singlelistas on the prowl.  It started to fill up.

 

I joined the beautiful girl brigade in the line for the loos. Seriously, Irish women are so good-looking.  They were all young 20’something done up as if Hollywood lookalikes.   Many were scantily clothed.  I was wondering if I’d missed the theme.  I was also thinking that I hadn’t a hope here. There was a lot of competition.  How would Mr. Right find me in the sea of all these beautiful women.  I’d heard that there had been a change in Coppers since the Recession.  The girls who used to frequent the likes of Lillies  or now gracing Coppers with their glamorous heels.

 

I was only in the loos for a short time, but I came out to a completely different place.  Coppers was now heaving.  Hormones were bursting through.  Men were like dogs on heat…scavenging through the crowd on the prowl. I soon realized that eye contact meant nothing in Coppers.  Everybody was giving everybody eyes, everybody was checking everybody out. It was like  a bizarre sociological experiment.

The music was loud, spouting out the top 40 tunes. My eyes met a guy in a green t-shirt. I initiated the conversation.  His name was Tomas aged 24yr from Kerry.  The slur in his words made is difficult to get much more information from him. He was drinking a pint, but most of it had drenched his green t-shirt.

 

The queue for the bar was three deep.  It was like a race to the end, but it was only 1am. There was approximately another 2hrs left for more liver emersion.  My sober attire and fresh eyes was making it difficult to connect with anyone.   I was wondering why I never had that problem when I did have a few jars in me?  Was there a hidden language only learned through alcohol?

 

Troops of drunken men were arriving, each lining up to take their hit.  The dance floor was on fire. Groups of girls danced around handbags.  Men were in the outer circle. Eyes were wide. ‘Galway Girl’ was belted out and the Irish dancing commenced.  This was random. Sleaze and Irish dancing going hand in hand; the uncut version of Riverdance. Sense of touch was brought to a new level. In the corner of the room, I could see couples that were on round two of the mating game.  I was hoping there would be no round three in view.

 

We’d be in there for about 2hrs, had been chatted up in any sense three times, ass felt five times.  We walked around trying to find someone less inebriated to have a conversation. I had a feeling though, this was not a place for conversation.  Both of us are just turning 29.  Had we taken a leap into the middle aged woman arena?  Was that what we were now?  It was mad, crazy, squashed and sweaty.   A giant of a man stood on my foot. I got a jostle from swingers. People were on another planet.  My wingwoman and I like the finer things in life: good wine, good food and good company.  My wingwoman had enough.  She was wearing killer heels and with that brings killer pain.  She wanted to leave.  I had two options…leave or stay, leave or stay. It was obvious that Mr. Right was not there or maybe he was but he was going to be in a sober state, but I still couldn’t stand defeated, so I decided to stay for another while.  Within minutes, I was back out on the street though. Being in Coppers sober is one thing, being in Coppers as a woman on your own sober is another.

 

Coppers is not for the faint hearted, and definitely not for someone like me who would be accustomed to asking for a wine list. However, there is something about the place that appeals to the culchie within me. Yes, it’s a great place for Singlelistas who want to meet other males and females on the prowl!
 It’s packed full to the rafters, a mecca for accountants; police; nurses and teachers to mention a few, that is if you can actually talk to them. You really need to be in the mood for this place.  It takes no prisoners. It will suck you up and spit you out. One piece of crucial advice, from one Singlelista to another, Coppers necessitates a few jars, not only for yourself, but to understand the unearthy hidden language.

 

On a positive note, Coppers has something very special.  Coppers makes it acceptable to give lingering eye contact, chat up, pinch an arse, grope or anything else to woo the person of your fancy.  If you could bottle that sense of freewill, dilute it somewhat, and release it to the world to use at will, you’d make millions.

 

All in all, at Coppers, there is a sense that you will pull, just don’t expect to meet Mr. Right, just the Man of the Night!