Sensational

In August, I embarked upon a brief, passionate liaison. Those of you who were working alongside me in that time will probably know to which I refer. It was an open secret during the month’s work, but it was presumably deemed improper or impolite to discuss in what had passed for civilised company. Thus, it wasn’t often commented upon, but the knowing looks told me that everybody was aware. I suppose that a part of the attraction was the danger, the lust and the fact it was unlikely to last beyond our time together in Scotland. It wouldn’t travel. It was too complicated and everyone knew it. It was only ever to be a festival fling.

I was kidding myself.

I had to come clean about my activities to some people who were unavoidably going to be affected by my trysts. I admitted to them and, maybe more so, to myself that I had developed deeper feelings than I had anticipated. I got in over my head. It was no “festival fling”! As my time in Edinburgh drew to a close, I found myself feeling increasingly distraught and desperate to spend as much time with my desire as I could, before things got inevitably messy back home in Dublin. I found myself wishing there was more time, if even just to sit in The Meadows, holding them and getting lost in our affair. We said our goodbyes and I’m not ashamed to admit that I found myself fighting back a tear or three, aware of the likelihood that it would end there, no matter how hard we tried to make it work. Nothing is the same outside of the month of Fringe. At least we’d always have Paris….(not legitimately, but in a Casablanca referencing kind of way).

Back home, I tried to pretend I wasn’t still in the thrall, but I was taken with the thrill. I wanted Paris back and, like the crazy fool I was, I wouldn’t accept that things couldn’t be the same. I wanted more. My appetite was insatiable.

And now here I am, returned to this bonnie wee country. I’ve been living here for just over a week now and I see that it can’t be the same. You can’t capture that lightning in a bottle, as the cliché goes. The fire hasn’t burned entirely out, but it’s not got the same heat to it. To be honest, even though it has only been two months since I found it hard to say goodbye, it feels a little bit as though I’m trapped in a loveless marriage. Sure, we still get together, but it seems to be mostly out of habit at this stage. Whereas before we were thrown together by an undeniable allure, now we draw close more out of routine and familiarity. I guess it happens, but I wished I had longer before the complications set in. Maybe then it would have been easier to maintain that spark. Maybe it’s time we took a break from each other.

Truth is, I’d been secretly looking elsewhere for the giddy little highs for some time before you caught us the other night. I’m sorry you had to see that, but I know you can’t have been all that surprised.

You’ll always have a place in my heart, Walkers Sensations. Your Caramelised Onion and Balsamic Vinegar flavour crisps will linger long within my soul, but it doesn’t seem right to continue living this lie. We deserve better than this arrangement. We both need to look elsewhere for happiness. The mini chocolate doughnuts and I hope you can forgive us.

Our children would have been hideous, half-man, half-potato mutants anyway.