I’m on a video call with my faraway friend. I’m one of those sad people who, even though it’s now as everyday as a landline, still can’t quite get over the fact that such a thing as Skype is possible. I still waste the first few minutes of these conversations marvelling at the amazingness of technology. “I can see you! Hello!!! Isn’t this mad? You’ve got something in your teeth there. No, there. This is just incredible. What a world. Who’d have thought it? In my day we used tin cans and a piece of string, etc, etc”.
When I was younger I used to play this game pretending I had a magic television through which I could talk to anybody. From Andy Pandy to Pam Ayers. (Younger readers I direct you to Google. )
My flabber will eternally be gasted by the fact that I’m alive in a world where there are magic televisions which cost nothing to use and if you angle the computer or phone correctly you can hide your double chins the better to convince faraway friends that the exercise regime is going better than it actually is.
So I’m at an uncomfortable angle, Skyping my faraway friend, let’s call him Rory, and he’s not his usual cheerful self. He says he has to tell me something and he says I’m not going to like it but that I’m not to get all outraged. I’m just to listen, apparently. I can feel his distress through the magic television.
I know this thing that I'm not going to like but over which I'm not to get all outraged is going to be something to do with his girlfriend. Let's call her Rose.
For the past few years this Rose has been having trouble choosing between my faraway Rory friend and another man, also confusingly and hard to believe I know, called Rory. Let's call him Other Rory.
For the past five years Rose has been dithering between Original Rory and Other Rory. One horrible day, before I knew about Skype, I spent an hour on the phone to Rory as he told me the story of Other Rory and how Rose had confessed that she wanted to “spend time” with him to “explore” whether there was a possibility of a “soul connection”.
My friend Rory is a very open person. He’s not one to stand in the way of romantic exploration or soul connection or other words that just mean cheating in everybody else’s language.
He cried for an hour, tortured animal tears. It was awful. And I was glad that it wasn’t happening via magic television because visuals would have only made it more traumatic.
The upshot was he let her go off to this Other Rory. He channelled Sting and decided that if he loved her, he had to let her go. Now every so often I get an update. As in: She's left Other Rory and told Original Rory he's the one. She's back
with Other Rory but still has feelings for Original Rory. She's decided Other Rory
is toxic and begged Original Rory to take her back.
So here he is, appearing tormented on my laptop screen with the latest update. Apparently, things with Other Rory have taken a nasty turn. Other Rory has told Rose that he’s going to get Original Rory “messed up” if she goes back to him again. (I swear everyone in this story talks like they’re in an old movie). Rose says his sudden violent declarations made her realise that my friend Rory is her true love and she’s willing to do whatever it takes to win back his trust.
What do I think about all that, faraway Rory wants to know. I look at him through the magic screen and I tell him to run. Like the wind. As far from Rose and Other Rory as he can get. But I know just by looking at him, sitting there with all that foolish hope in his eyes, he’s going to give her another chance.
So we make a plan. Operation One More Chance. Rose can’t just swan back in re-establishing a soul connection with Original Rory. She needs to work for it. We talk about couples counselling and we talk about individual counselling. We talk about the work she needs to do on herself and the fact that if she goes back to Other Rory one more time, then it really is The End. This time. For good. Mind you, I’ve had this exact conversation with him at least three times before so I press the off button feeling uneasy and sad for Rory. Again.
He hasn’t answered my Skype calls in a couple of weeks. They’re probably married by now.
roisin@irishtimes.com