Mrs 39 and the curious case ofher shy admirer on St Valentine’s Day

THERE have been significant developments in the not-so-strange but fairly true case of The Woman Who Hasn’t Had Sex for 39 years. I have changed my mind in relation to the reporting of Mrs 39’s condition. I have the power of life and death when it comes to the telling of the story of Mrs 39. This is a terrible responsibility. Now I know how judges feel when they don the black cap.

There was a standard enough threat in the old days when lads were fighting over football or land or women – it was, “I’ll do time for him.”

Well, I have no notion of doing time for anyone, but the killing of Mrs 39 has been postponed indefinitely. It’s not Mrs 39 who was to be killed off, but her character.

Truth to tell I was overwhelmed by the competing interests. Men were getting in touch with proposals all the time. It was too much. I have lost count of the men who have said to me, “Do you know that woman who hasn’t had sex for 39 years? Well, I’ll solve her problem.”

Men cannot comprehend that Mrs 39’s decision to abstain for 39 years was brought about partly because of a sequence of events which does not show men in a good light.

I find it difficult to understand the almost hysterical efforts that are being made by so many men to end the self-imposed 39-year ban on sex.

The other side of the 39 dilemma – and very much part of the reasoning why I did kill her off for about four months – is the number of letters and entreaties from those who don’t want to be reading here about sex. Or, as one man wrote, “that sort of carry on”.

The poor man couldn’t even say the word sex. Most of the communications have come from decent people who felt I’d lost my way. Thanks for your concern and for a while I desisted from writing about Mrs 39.

But then I got to thinking that, well, I’m not really writing about sex. It’s the lack of sex.

Mrs 39 has no interest in sex. She gave up, as we told you here before, when the husband ran off with a young one a year short of four decades ago. Anyway, he’s dead now and no great loss he was either.

Mrs 39 does like gentlemanly sort of men like Michael Bublé the singer. She’s mad about Ryan Tubridy, who is very kind to people and has a lovely way with him.

I’m no psychoanalyst but I’m guessing the reason Mrs 39 likes men who are mannerly and polite is because the husband was so nasty.

The only time he ever opened a door for Mrs 39 was to kick her out into the worst of the weather when she didn’t give him steak for the dinner after he lost the housekeeping money on a horse running at Wincanton.

Mrs 39’s dog Dingo is a very good indicator of how Mrs 39 is feeling. If Dingo looks sad and walks slowly, with the lead limp and ignores the world, you know Mrs 39 is a bit off.

She can get quite angry at times about small matters of no consequence to anyone but herself. Small matters as to why Dingo should be licensed. “It’s not like dogs are televisions,” she growls.

Mrs 39 isn’t exactly loaded so when Tipperary councillor Eddie O’Meara mentioned he had a constituent who was greatly moved by Mrs 39’s predicament, well, then I put it to her there was a well-off sheep farmer who would be quite happy with a platonic relationship.

Mrs 39 thanked the kindly councillor for his interest but said Dingo might not like him. Dingo, which is not the dog’s real name, is a key part of the deal. Love me, love Dingo seems to be Mrs 39’s attitude.

But as we said at the outset, there have been new developments. There is another man who will accept chastity and Dingo first as a pre-condition for any relationship. He has been in touch, through his advisers, and I felt duty bound to inform Eddie. But this man is a sheep farmer and in the middle of a Department inspection.

Some count sheep to go to sleep, more count sheep to get more grant money. There is some suggestion the sheep farmer may have miscounted his sheep and he didn’t wrong himself.

Eddie says: “He has no interest in anything right now, only the sheep. Romance is off until he sorts out the Department.”

The new suitor’s advisers maintain he is “fairly comfortable”, which I think means their man is not badly off but not as well off as “comfortable” or “well away”.

Maybe in this, the run-up to Valentine’s Day, some of you might take offence with the notion that “well away” might be the best choice on economic grounds.

MRS 39 has her widow’s pension. She’s a woman who lives within her means, mainly because her means is all she has. Mrs 39 hasn’t exactly lived a life of luxury. I met Mrs 39 this morning. She told me the story of the series of Valentine’s cards sent to her every year for the last 39 years.

The postmark is always the same. The sender is either from Waterford or posts the Valentine’s Day card in Waterford.

“But I don’t know anyone in Waterford,” says Mrs 39, who by the way very much appreciates the constancy of the sender’s application to matters romantic.

Mrs 39 is calling for an investigation. “I was watching the television about this killer who was caught because his DNA was found when he licked the envelope of a letter he sent.”

I think she might be going to ask gardaí to investigate the case of the man who sent a Valentine’s card every year for 39 years.

But surely gardaí can’t be investigating matters of the heart. It would be preferable if the man who sent a Valentine’s card from Waterford for 39 years would get in touch with Mrs 39.

I hope he likes dogs, is well away, puts women before sheep grants and his intentions are pure. We will keep you informed.