Paudie O’Connor Was Adorable - And The Most Beautiful Man I’d Ever Laid Eyes On (continued)

Yes. I was hooked all right.

Paudie O’Connor was the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on.

                  No doubt about it …  He. Was. Adorable.

                  When I told him I lived in the mountains of North Carolina he was thrilled.

                  He leaned in closer. “How far are you from Chapel Hill?”

                  “Only about three hours.”

                  He almost spilled his soda. “Only tree hours?”

                  I loved the way he pronounced “three.”

            Remember how I mentioned that when Paudie put his mind to something, he wouldn’t quit until he knew everything about it? Well — he wanted to know everything about me! I loved that.

                  He had this incredible way of smiling. Those brilliant white teeth. That luscious full mouth. Just right for kissing, as I would soon discover.

    I wanted to wrap him up, put him in my jeans pocket, and take him home with me.

                  But that wasn’t possible. First of all, he was too big. I believe I told you, he was 6’4” — but I’d have found a way to bring him home if I could’ve. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind.

                  After my Visa expired, I had to return to the States. But we stayed in touch for a year until he came to visit me in the States the summer of 1973.

                  I was still very much in love with that guy. Absolutely crackers over him.

                  What happened?

                  Wouldn’t you just love to know about that romantic summer!

                  You’ll have to wait for the book to surface.

                  Meanwhile, feast your eyes on Paudie in the above photo …

Well hello, there, Cutie Pie!

                  This photo is a great way to leave you wondering.

Paudie O’Connor - The Most Beautiful Man I Ever Laid Eyes On

Paudie O’Connor & The Lakes of Killarney

Paudie O’Connor was the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on.

When I met him in the kitchen of The Aghadoe Heights Hotel in Killarney back in 1972, he was sitting at a table in a corner, tucked away from the bustle of the rest of the room.  His best friend, Mick, introduced us. I sensed Mick anticipated a transformative encounter between us, and I was right.

Mick grinned, nodding toward us during his introduction. “Debbie, Paudie … Paudie, Debbie.”

Paudie stood up – all 6’4” of him – and I thought I’d die. He was gorgeous.

Creamy light skin. Ocean-blue eyes. Wavy, sandy brown hair flecked with gold. An Oval face framing handsome, rugged features. A tight, muscular body – just primed to play basketball. Good God Almighty, I was in trouble … and I’d only just met him!

I figured he was a player. Someone that women found irresistible. Someone who had tons of girls hanging all over him. I decided he wasn’t for me, and we would just let the whole night ride out and never see each other again.

But then he reached over and offered me his hand. “Hello, Yank. I’m Paudie O’Connor.” It was hopeless. I hated to admit it, but I was already falling for him.

He had this killer baritone voice. Men would die for a voice like that. Hell, I died just hearing it. So, I was even more determined I wanted no romantic involvement with this man. It would only lead to trouble, and trouble was something I definitely did not need. No sir.

He smiled at me again, and I felt myself being pulled in. Dammit, Debbie. Get it together!

Later, we went to a bar in downtown Killarney, and he told me how much he loved the Carolina Tarheels. How cool he thought Dean Smith, their legendary coach was. I’m a Tarheel myself - he was intrigued by that. I was intrigued that he was intrigued.

Okay. So he had my attention in a big way. This was 1972, and there were few TVs in Ireland. How did an Irishman know that much about the Heels, then?

How, indeed? I would soon learn that if Paudie put his mind to something, he found a way to know everything about it. And that everything was basketball. God, he was impressive.

As we sat in a booth at the bar, I wanted him to touch me in the worst way.

Paudie seemed to know my desire because he ran his finger along my arm. God, I needed that!

He chuckled as he asked me a question. “Where do you live, Deb? You don’t mind if I call you Deb instead of Debbie, do you?”

Did I MIND? He could call me Pocahontas if he wanted to, and I’d love it!

I was hooked. So very hooked. Just wait until I tell you more.

Stay Tuned for the rest of this post next week …