Welcoming 2011 in Style!!!!

Picture the scene, New Years day 2011. After an immense party I was taking a break from the clean up effort from the night before. The guy who I had mildly fooled around with and shared a bed with was still asleep and those still feeling alive were dancing to ‘Empire State of Mind’ whilst drinking toffee vodka straight from the bottle.  After sweeping the floor I sat down and checked out my Facebook messages on my phone. Pretty much as soon as I logged in I received an unexpected message from someone I absolutely did not expect to hear from again.  Ahhhh Guillaume! Suddenly my impending hangover seemed very far away. We exchanged polite chat for a while before I somewhat boldly informed him that in my country it is very good luck to have sex on New Years day, of course it was a lie but it did the trick and we arranged a time for him to come to my place to ‘catch up’. I had to ask myself what it was about this guy that made me so quick to invite him into my home/bed/ummm…y’know…but I quickly pushed those thoughts away as remembered that:

a)      He was probably the best looking guy I had ever been with.

b)      He was like a well oiled machine that could go all night.

c)      He spoke dirty to me in the sexiest way imaginable.

I had to get home from the suburbs and fast! Luckily I got a ride and had just enough time to make myself presentable. However, when one has not had much sleep she does not look her best and does not feel particularly sexy, there was no way I was going to win a fight with a suspender belt when I was still half drunk yet I spruced myself up as well as I could and awaited Guillaume’s arrival.

When he finally arrived my legs felt like jelly and my heart was thumping. Damn, life would’ve been so much easier if he had become ugly since the last time I’d seen him but it was not meant to be. And to make it worse he was being sweet, funny and completely charming – this was nothing like our previous and very awkward coffee date. We chatted and caught up for a while until he interrupted me mid-sentence with a kiss that almost made me swoon. I did try to play it cool but the guy was such a great kisser that he could’ve had a degree in it. On shaky legs I went to close the shutters when he came up behind me and kissed my neck, of course he had to go for my weak spot and within minutes any resolve I had to play it cool went straight out the window. The next thing I knew I was pressed up against the wall in nothing but my underwear and G’s clothes were being removed at a rapid pace.

Since the last time I had seen G there had been others but none of them really compared, this guy was just sex on a stick and of course I loved it when he started saying things so filthy they would make a porn star blush. When he asked me if I had missed my big toy I was 100% honest when I replied that of course I had, the pleasure it gave me was unforgettable. G was very vocal during sex and not just verbally, I like that – it’s nice for a guy to show his appreciation and he definitely appreciated it when I told him ‘ma chatte est pour toi, do whatever you want with it.’ What a hussy, but he loved it!

It continued this way for the rest of the night, we fucked, we drank a bottle of cheap champagne I had in my fridge (and of course I found other uses for the champagne if you know what I mean ;) ) and we occasionally slept. I jokingly told him that his New Years resolution was to see me more but somehow I doubted that he took me seriously when I said it.

In the morning he left and I was unsure if I would ever see him again. I wasn’t too bothered though, 2011 had got off to a great start and I was determined that the rest of the year would follow suit!


PS! A male friend of mine was recently talking to a woman who said that she did not believe in wearing stockings and suspenders because she said they were 'cheesy'. Listen up ladies! Anyone who agrees with this statement needs to invest in some sexy underwear (including stockings and suspenders) and some killer heels and fast! Even if you just wear them to do the housework you will feel great! I just had to share that! ;)

Goodbye Didier....

So I thought Didier was a keeper but it turned out I was wrong. After Christmas we arranged to meet up via Facebook a couple of times. Each time he had said to me, "text me when you want to meet". The 1st time that I text him after a conversation like this and he didn't reply I brushed it off. The 2nd time it happened though I got mad!

It was a Saturday and we had arranged a little rendez vous the night before. Didier had told me to text him the next day to make arrangements and so around 3pm I text and asked when he wanted me. As I waited for his reply I went through the good old female routine that you painfully go through when sleeping with a new guy: shaving, exfoliating, moisturising, plucking, nail painting, underwear choosing (actually, that part's not so painful), outfit choosing, blow drying, hair straightening, perfume spraying and above all - criticitzing!

By the time I was finished this loooong beauty routine I expected a reply from Didier but nada. I figured he was just busy and would get back to me soon. I was wrong. Around 5pm I text him again. By the time 7pm rolled round I was majorly unhappy and decided that I would just treat myself to a couple of bottles of wine instead, oh and maybe some chocolate. (the endorphins in chocolate are supposed to mimic the pleaseure of sex right? Take that and the wine and it would be just like the first night I spent with Didier!)

An hour (give or take), half a bottle of rose down and copious amounts of chocolate later I was in no way feeling any endorphins, I was just plain pissed off and I sure wasn't doing myself any favours by watching 'danse avec les stars' (is that programme good in any language!?) and engaging in plentiful Facebook stalking. And then I saw it, the f**cking, bast***ing, c**t, dic***ad, frog was online! (excuse my French!) Fuelled by the wine I wrote him a somewhat snappy message:

 Me: Thanks for not getting back to me, had I known you were going to cancel I would've made other plans.
Didier: You were supposed to text me to arrange.
Me: I did and you didnt reply!!!!
D : No you never
Me (getting agitated) : Oh yes I fucking did, is this not your number, 06*********?

And then...he went offline!

Oh and a little thing I forgot to mention...I had got a new phone approx 2 weeks before this whole exchange took place. Not everyone had my new number so I was still keeping my old phone charged and switched on. (Can you see where this is going?!)

About 5 minutes later my old phone started vibrating with a message: 'Hello, this is the correct number for me.' Oh yeees, you guessed it, I had entered the wrong number into my new phone. All that while being mad that I had received no reply to my texts and I hadn't even been texting the correct number - what an idiot!!! I replied and asked if Didier still wanted to meet up. He didn't, he had made alternative plans. Plenty more wine had been consumed during this exchange so I will blame that for my hot-headedness, 'Fine', I replied 'but I can't be bothered with this and therefore I never want to see you again!'

Of course it was totally irrational and over the top but Didiers response totally floored me. I swear it was the worst thing a guy has ever ever said to me and I had got some great abuse from 'C' (stupid fucking slut being a personal favourite). Never had abuse like this from a guy made me stop and think so much and really question myself. Over and over I played it in my mind, so mortified, upset and embarassed.

Didier had told me that I had bad breath!!!!


Yep, you read that right. I brush x2 a day, floss and chew plenty of gum. Jesus, how had this happened. Why hadn't any of my friends ever told me about this problem? How could I ever kiss a guy again?! I was so embarassed but I had to know the thruth and so the next day I called my great friend K (she gives tough love) to ask her if it was true. She of all people would tell me if it was. As I mumbled the awful 'Do I have bad breath?' down the phone I could feel my face burning. Thankfully I got the answer I wanted to hear: 'Whaaat?! No you do not!!! What a fucking arsehole! Do you really think I would let you go on dates with guys if you had bad breath?' K tells it like it is and even though she had to reassure me several more times I believed her.

Needless to say, I didn't contact/hear from Didier again.

But here is the lesson in this...if you ever want to make someone really paranoid, self-doubting and embarrased - tell them they have bad breath, not everyone is as lucky to have such a straight talking and honest friend as me!

Guillaume Part 2 - When Mr Perfect isn't Mr Right...

For a good couple of days after meeting G my inner thighs hurt like hell...sexercise is absolutely more enjoyabe than the gym and if done right can give just as good as workout. It was a week before I saw Guillaume again. We were supposed to go for drinks the next Saturday but he cancelled at the last minute - needless to say I was NOT impressed, he told me that he had been working like crazy all week and was really tired. I just figured he was blowing me off.
That was until the next day when I got a super apologetic text from him and an invite to lunch...now I know , I know, I should have claimed to have been busy and said no but instead I just asked when did he want me. His reply? 'Now, I want you now!'..Ahhh , swooooooon, I don't even know if he meant it in a sexual way but I certainly took it that way and got myself ready, excited for the day ahead of me.
When I met G at the metro station I was so nervous/excited and when I saw him coming towards me I could have died - he was every bit as beautiful as I remembered and my legs were actually shaking as he greeted me with a bisous. Lunch, what to eat? I like to think of myself as a bit of a feminist but I also wanted to appear attractive to this god-like man and so my internal dilemia about what to eat started...sounds stupid I know but here were my thoughts...

• A good old burger? - Noooo, what if it was greasy and I got grease all over myself? Plus not to mention that I still feel stupid eating burgers the French way i.e. with a knife and fork.
• A salad? - Hmmmm, well it would certainly make me more Frenchgirl-esque but actually I'm not a huge fan of salads, I was hungry and what if I got some lettuce stuck in my teeth?!
• A croque monsieur? (cheese toastie with a fried egg on top for anyone that doesn't know) - Noooooooo....I'll end up with egg yolk all down my front/chin.

In the end I settled for a croque madame (monsieur mais sans egg) while G had steak tartare (so manly!). After lunch we went for a stroll along the Promenade Plantee (an elevated garden) which is a really romantic place to go. I felt like I was walking on air...for over a year with C this is what I had longed for...long romantic strolls round Paris with handholding and lots of kisses. I never once got it and here I was with a guy that I'd known for a week having the full-on boyfriend experience! The perfect day sadly couldn't last forever and I had to leave for some pre-arranged dinner plans with friends. It was hard saying goodbye when all I wanted for G to do was to take me home, throw me on the bed and give me a good seeing to!

Luckily for me I didn't have to wait too long for that.

A couple of days later fueled by my absolute need to have this guy in me again I texted G and said something along the lines of 'it's going to be a cold night, keep me warm?'. Yes, I'm sooooo smooth, but it worked. A short while later I was in his appartment drinking wine with my sexiest blank underwear under my clothes. This is when I started to notice small cracks, I kinda realised that me and G didn't have much in common or alot to talk about. I pushed it to the back of my mind, especially when after a long kiss he placed my hand on top of his big erection and asked if I wanted him as much as he wanted me. What a silly question! Within minutes we were rolling around his bed in our underwear and then another crack appeared (no, not that kind of crack!). I was keen to pleasure this guy and was kindly (so I thought) putting his needs before mine. So there I was on top on him kissing my way doooown when i noticed...argh, no erection anymore! This cock had been rock hard and ready to go only minutes before - what was going on?!? When I expressed my confusion G told me that he 'doesn't like to be dominated'! Wtf?! There were no handcuffs, blindfolds or whips present (sadly!), was he for real?! He was. It passed soon enough though and soon he was fucking me and asking me if I had missed my big toy as well as the delicious French words that drove me wild, comme ca, oh ouiiii! And like the time before it was non-stop, I really have never met a guy who is always so ready to GO...just when I thought it was over for the night and I started to fall into an exhausted slumber G started touching and...ahem..exploring...and whispered in my ear 'I think this pussy needs a hard dick in it', and there we were off again, no complaints from me.

After that night though it was a month before I saw Guillaume again, part of me wondered if it was something to do with the 'dominating', part of me wondered if he had met someone else and another part wondered if perhaps he too had felt to same small cracks I had. The next time I saw him we met for a coffee and he was like a different person. He was so distracted and really didn't seem like he wanted to be there. I felt awkward and uncomfortable and the couple who had their tongues rammed down each others throats at the table next to us didn't help. We were a ten minute walk from his flat but it was clear that sexytime was not on the cards and after an hour or so we said goodbye for the last time.

My vagina cried but in my head I knew it was for the best and so it was au revoir to my favourite Frenchman so far...

Encounter 3 - Guillaume, Part 1

In September two significant things happened: One - C left Paris for good and two - I met the hottest guy ever who ended up being the 1st Frenchie that I really liked.

The reason I mention the 1st point is because it was after my ex left Paris that things really took a turn for the best. I moved to Paris to be with C and I had never really been in this city without him, I was expecting slight panic when he left - who would I turn to if something happened to me? But in actual fact when he left it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders...no longer would I be walking around on eggshells terrified that I would bump into him and the girl he replaced me with a couple of weeks after we split up.

And so, it was with this newfound carefree feeling that I got dressed up one Saturday night to head for some drinks with friends. Incase you havent noticed already, I like sex and have probably what is considered a much higher than average sex drive. By this point it had been FIVE months which felt more like a year. So with this itch that needed scratched that I delibretely dressed an un-Frenchlike as possible. I was only going to a bar in Oberkampf (one of my favourite areas to go out in Paris!) but I wore a short dress with no tights, high heels and lots of red lipstick. I've found that French girls dont get all that dresssed up to go out, nor do they wear much make-up.

After drinking a bottle of wine (to myself, yeah I guess I still was drinking too much) at my friends place we headed to a small bar. We were chatting away when the guy at the table beside us heard us talking English and asked me where we were from. I almost died and went to heaven, he was tall with floppy hair, gorgeous brown eyes, designer stubble, a gorgeous smile...you get the idea! When he asked if I wanted to go outside and join him for a smoke I couldn't have said yes fast enough. I don't smoke but I still took a few draws from his rollie (yuck) and tried to disguise my disgust at the taste of it (probably not very well, I've been told I have a very expresssive face). The rest of that night is pretty hazy, I remember we went back into that bar, he bought me some drinks and then I demanded that we went dancing (I get bossy when drunk). We went to the Nouveau Casino where I remember ordering shots of vodka (I just don't know when to stop sometimes - le sigh) and then after that...everything is blank.

Have you ever woken up and had NO IDEA where you are? And I don't mean when you wake up and forget for a second, I mean proper, 'Oh my God , where am I?'. I have, this one time and it was not fun. Thankfully the first thing that I noticed was that I was still fully dressed, the second was that the ineviatable hangover was absent (probably because I was still abit drunk) and as I sat up the third was that the guy lying next to me was well and truly delicious!!!!So what do you do in that poition? Well I smiled and said good morning and acted like my memory was not a total blank. Which backfired when he asked if i remembered his name :

Anglosluts Mouth :  Of course I do..it's uhhh...erm...
Anglosluts Mind : Fuuuck, what's his name...will he be offended that I can't remember? Is there a bill, anything lying around? Fuck, he's looking at me expectantly...fuuuuuck, damn you wine!
Anglosluts Mouth : Erm...ahhh, maybe you'll have to remind me. I bet you don't remember MY name!

He did. He also had by the bed a glass of water and an asprin for my expected hangover. Is it wrong to use a strangers toothbrush? Between the choice of alcohol morning breath and using a toothbrush I'll choose the latter. So after a brush of the teeth and a quick wipe under the eyes to remove smudged mascara I returned back to G's bed where things started to heat up. I was so happy that I had chosen to wear cute matching underwear! And I can tell you...the wait was SO worth it! G was just so sexy in every way and he was like a total machine. He was the 1st guy that I noticed the large box of condoms beside her bed though, and really I wasn't too sure how to take that. Careful or a he-slut? I somehow managed to convince myself that he was just careful.

That was a great day which I deemed 'Sexy Sunday', we literally stayed in bed allll day, only getting up around 8pm to go get some dinner. To me G was pefect, totally gorgeous, smart, well travelled and owned his own sucessfull buinness. I consider myself very average so it was a real case in internally high-fiving myself. After dinner we returned to his place and continued our sex-a-thon. He'd lived in his flat for 2 years and had never fucked on the balcony so I took care of that. Sex on a balcony is always fun - whens it's directly accross from a hotel window it's just downright naughty! AND unlike the fool Arnaud before him, G's command of the English language was fantastic. I didn't expect for someone I'd only just me to ask me if I 'liked his hard dick in my pussy' and could only mutter a feeble yes thanks to the surprise but as Sexy Sunday went on the chat became dirtier and sexier until I finally found myself muttering 'say it in French'. He obliged. Wow. Just wow, that's all I can really say. if you haven't had a hot Frenchman talk dirty to you in his native tongue then put it on your to-do list. Seriously, even if your married to an American guy and have 5 kids.

Sadly Sexy Sunnday came to an end (after having sex 8 times, yes I counted, yes it's a little pathetic, no I don't care) and I had the joy of going to work on Monday morning with very sore thights but a huge smile on my face. G walked me to the metro, asked for my number and promised to be in touch.

And so it was an a bientot rather than an au revoir to encounter nuber 3!

Introduction

Welcome to the adventures of this Anglo-Slut. If you happen to have stumbled across this then I apologise in advance for any raciness you may encounter. If you are looking for the typical blog about someone living in Paris talking about long walks and museums and the beauty of it all then you will be disappointed. The only beauty I will refer to is that of the Frenchmen that I am surrounded by. There is a reason for this blog...my dear dear friend hereby known as NC dared to move to the other side of the world, we are both rubbish at emailing and recently she asked me to write a blog so...voila!
I won't write much about me except that I am an anglo who has been living in Paris for over 2years now. Just over a year ago I split up with my English boyfriend, so this blog will document all past and current Frenchman encounters, all for the benefit of NC!
As it is stupid o'clock in the morning here I will keep this 1st post brief but as an introduction here is some observations about the most beautiful men on Earth (the Frenchies)

• Frenchmen are the only nationality in the world that can pull off that floppy hair.
• They seen to have a rule book that they use for chatting up Anglo girls - the favourite seems to be 'you have such beautiful eyes' - bleugh!
• It is perfectly normal for them to approach a girl walking down the street and ask for her number/a date.
• They always seem to have a large stash of condoms by their bed and whip them out fast. Unlike Anglo boys they dont try to just stick it in. If its hard then it's wrapped up.
• Kissing in a club generally makes them think that sexytime is automatically on the cards.
• 'Tres jolie' appears to actually be sincere. 'So beautiful' seems to be used when they are trying to get laid.
• A Frenchman talking dirty to you is exhilirating. If you have never had the pleasure then it sucks to be you.
• Anglo girls tend to be viewed as easy - I'm not gonna lie, I'm the kind of Anglo girl that adds to that reputation.

Might be worth mentioning that I seem to have a 'type' of Frenchman that I go for. In general they have floppy hair, designer stubble and brown eyes like pools of chocolate you could swim in. Oh and I also seem to be attrated to the he-sluts!

So introduction over - I'm off to sleep. Enjoy NC - you owe me a fucking good email now! ;)