Breaking resolutions...

As detailed in a previous entry I had promised myself that 2012 would bring only liaisons with hot, sexy Frenchmen. There was to be no more Anglo boys entering my life..or bed...or vagina...you get the idea.

That resolution lasted about a month.

The night that I met Charles I had consumed 3 bottles of rosé wine with a friend. And of course, because I still haven't learnt my lesson about drinking on an empty stomach (even though I'm now in my mid-twenties) I was well on my way to being on the wrong side of merry.  Note to self: "Eating's cheating" was fine at age 20, now, it's just a downright stupid philosophy.

After the aforementioned wine I was far too drunk to care that I found myself in an Anglo bar. Yes, my snobby attitude had disappeared and, according to the pictures that I found on my phone the next day, I had had a great time talking to my fellow boozers in some tiny pub in the Marais whose name now deserts me. My memories are hazy but I remember one such fellow boozer as being a hot English guy in a suit who I had a drunken kiss with right in the middle of this tiny pub. Classy! The next thing I remember is him giving me  his name (Charles) and number on a piece of paper before he made a hasty exit.

After I had gotten over my hangover the next day I text Charles. His quick exit had left me wanting more and from what I remembered he was very attractive. We text back and forth for a few days, I was loving the British humor and so was very quick to agree to a date with him that weekend. He told me that he was relatively new to Paris so I suggested that we went to Chez Justine, one of my favourite restaurants ever! So on the Friday I got home, got myself dolled up and headed to the 11émé.

When I came out the metro station and met Charles I silently cursed my beer goggles. Charles wasn't bad looking but he was ever so slightly shorter than me (eek!) and was very baby faced. Even though I like my men tall I overlooked it, after all he had made the effort of wearing a suit and we were going to my favourite restaurant, things could have been a lot worse. As we walked towards the restaurant Charles asked me how my day had been. I told him about my day at work and mentioned how I had went to the gym after. That was when strike one happened. Charles actually stunned me into silence by actually saying out loud "Yeah, I really need to join a gym. At the moment I look like a Holocaust victim when I'm naked." Seriously, who says things like that?! Especially when on a FIRST DATE!!! Thankfully it was dark so I doubt he saw the look on my face. I told myself that perhaps he was just nervous and decided that I would ignore his faux pas.

Once seated inside the restaurant however, things went from bad to worse. In passing I mentioned that he had also been in a suit the last time I had met him when strike two happened. Charles informed me that he did not own a single pair of jeans and that he wore suits every single day, not for work, just because he wanted to. Not only did he wear suits but he often accompanied them with a fedora hat. BOOM! This was closely followed up by him talking about how much he just loved smoking. I try not to judge people on how they dress and if people want to smoke it's their choice but living your life like you are on the set of Mad Men is a little deluded. Predictably he also loved the music of Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin and scoffed when I told him that I like a little of everything,  aaaaand strike three!!!!

Over our (delicious!) meal the topic of age came up. Charles had implied to me that he had a very good job and so, the topics of education and work came up. Something wasn't quite adding up though until he admitted that he was a mere twenty years old and that his birthday had been one month before! His very good job was an internship! Strike four! Charles cheerfully asked me if this was a problem and even though I said no, there was no hiding the expression on my face. Now, I know, I know, 'age is only a number', blah, blah, blah but take that 5 year age gap and add a big dose of immaturity and then it becomes very relevant. The very final straw came however when Charles asked me what year I had graduated. When I told him 2008 he actually laughed and declared "Oh wow, that's the year I started!". BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!!!! Strike five! Thankfully he lived in the suburbs of Paris and had to catch the RER home (explanation for his quick exit the night we had met) so there was no time for post-dinner drinks. Very sweetly, he did try to pay for my meal but there was no way I could let that happen, he was practically still a child in my eyes!

As we said goodbye I silently praised the 'bisous' for giving me a polite goodbye without that awkward kiss avoidance. We exchanged a few more texts before I (truthfully) told Charles I didn't think we had much in common. My foray back into the world of Anglo boys had been a disaster. From now on I would stick to Frenchmen. 

Encounter 2 - Frank

I met Frank on a night out when I was gradually getting back to normal and at the time when C was starting to no longer be the 1st thing that I thought about in the morning. I still wasn't myself, I was still drinking too much and I was hitting the rebound bigtime but I was getting there.

I met Frank through a friend of a friend at a boat party. I was drunk, he was drunk and we ended up kissing. He was your stereotypical geek, kinda tall and lanky with glasses and he worked in the Apple store. He was also 2 years younger than me..I thought he was super hot though and I still kinda think he is. After a night of dancing and snogging we eventually left the boat party at 6am and headed back to Frank's friends place where we all partied some more until exhuastion started to kick in. It must've been around 8am when we finally left his friends place to stagger back to Franks - for want of a proper bed if nothing else! Once back at his place and comfortably into bed things started to heat up. After some time though it became clear that Frank wasn't going to..ahem..rise to the occasion. I put it down to tiredness, too much alcohol and coke then rolled over and thought nothing more of it.

Later in the afternoon I finally found the energy to get myself home. Frank walked me to the metro stop, asked for my number and kissed me goodbye. Over the next couple of weeks we exchanged texts, became friends on Facebook and discussed going for drinks sometime.

One Sunday I was out with my amazing friend N who was my absolute rock at that time. I was drunk of course and was blabbing on about how I really felt I was getting better which of course made me think of C and made me all emotional. Le sigh. Once we left the bar I went home and texted Frank and invited him over to my place. I guess I wasn't really bothered about seeing him but it was a classic rebound thing to do. Of course it turned out not to be such a good idea since he accepted my invite and hopped on the nightbus...from the other end of the city!

An hour and a half he finally arrived and by this point I was pretty much asleep. As i recall I said a groggy and drunken hello and then announced that I was going to sleep. This guy was a freakin hugger though so it was easier said than done. Then out of nowhere he started talking about our last encounter, how keeping it up was a problem for him and how he was going to go to the doctors about it. In my head all I could think was 'Uhhh, why is this guy trying to talk to me about FEELINGS! Can't a girl have some good old fashioned sex without having to talk about things?!'. Of course I'm actually a pretty nice person so rather than berate him I told him that he needed more confidence and kissed him goodnight.

After that I let things fizzle out...I had enough issues of my own without worrying about someone elses too!

And so it was Au Revoir encounter number 2!