Its the little conversations that tell ya everything in a small town like Tralee. Ive been running my pub for thirty years now and youll hear things. Men dont talk direct but they talk round the edges of things. Round the pints. Round the quiet moments.
The lads come in. They dont look at each other straight on. But they know. About loneliness. About wanting. About the women they see on the side. Not their wives. Someone else. Someone who doesnt ask questions.
I started seeing Mary two years back. Shes from Cork. Professional. Clean. Discreet. Knows how to make a man feel like hes actually seen. Not just another farmer or publican going through the motions. My ex wife never looked at me like that. Just went through her days. Then left.
In Kerry we dont judge. We understand. Life gets complicated. People get lonely. And sometimes you need something pure. Something honest. Even if its just for an hour.
The pub walls hear everything. But they dont speak. Just like the men who drink here.