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. 

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! ;)

New Year 2011, New Resolutions....New Adventures!!!

As 2010 drew to an end I was delighted to be waving goodbye to a totally crap year. I was determined to make  2011 a good one though and I was well on my way: my heart had gone from broken into tiny pieces to only slightly fractured, work was going well and I had fantastic friends. Aaaand to top it all off I had been invited to a New Years party in a large suburban apartment that promised to be full of hot Frenchmen! Tim, who invited me, is a friend who had studied at my university for a semester and we got back in contact again after I moved to Paris. Although he is a very very fine specimen of a man there has never ever been anything between us but friendship...but that didn't mean that I couldn't engage in a little more than friendship with one of his nice, handsome friends that I knew would be at the party. As I got ready (what to wear?!) I pondered my New Years resolutions:

• NO MORE BRITISH BOYS!!!! - I was in the land of les frogs and the most beautiful men in the world. The time had come to take advantage of that. Lets never go back to boring old burgers when surrounded by amazing steak!!!
• GO TO THE GYM 3-4 TIMES PER WEEK - Don't we all make this resolution at some point in our lives? I actually (for the most part) managed to keep this resolution even though I tend to go 2-3 times these days rather than 3-4.
• CUT OUT CHEESE - This was never going to happen! My vices in life? Cheese, shopping and Frenchmen. None are all that good for the body, mind or wallet but are perfect for short-term happiness.
• CUT DOWN TO ONE BOTTLE OF WINE PER WEEK - Again, never.going.to.happen!
• START A BLOG  - Enough said.

So off I ventured to the party with a bottle of champagne in one hand and various alcohol/petite fours in the other. I was a little early and when I arrived I was greeted by several familiar faces including Oli. Oli was a guy that I had only met a couple of times before. The first time I had ever met him I garbled away in Franglais for about 10minutes before I gave up and asked 'Do you speak English?' only for him to answer 'Yes' in the clearest, most perfect Americanized accent I had ever heard on a Frenchman. Oli was very attractive guy but he totally knew it and was just that little bit too arrogant for my liking.  Also present was 'D' who, like Tim, had studied at my university for a semester. We had once shared a very drunken kiss or 3 and had never been allowed to forget it.

Soon the party was in full swing. I tried not to show too much delight at the fact that out of around 30 of us there were 4 girls (myself included) and the other girls all had boyfriends. I drank champagne, ate escargots, danced and flirted lots with the many handsome  men present. After midnight things did not die down and I was very very drunk. I made a trip to the bathroom (once you pop, you cant stop right?!?!) and upon exiting I was accosted by Oli who had been waiting outside. The next thing I knew he was kissing me and walking me towards one of the bedrooms. This was a guy who knew what he wanted and would use all his charm to get it...but as I said, although he is very handsome I just wasn't that into him. After some slight groping where he tried his best to get into my pants I used the old safety-net question of  'Do you have a condom?'. He didn't but unlike all my other Frenchman encounters he didn't see it as a problem and tried his best to convince me to have sex with him without one. Studying in the US had obviously taught that guy some bad habits! 

As we continued this horizontal dance (with clothes on) of him trying to have his wicked way and me (mostly) rejecting his advances one of the other guys from the party burst into the room waving Olis phone about. One the phone was someone who he called 'baby' and who was told that he had been sleeping. Yep, of course this guy had a girlfriend.  I thanked my lucky stars for my near miss and rolled over and went to sleep. In the morning I left Oli the cad sleeping in bed while I went to join everyone else in the cleanup process. I had to ward off a million questions and laughter about what had happened but I was too hungover to care.

The party was a success. Yes, Oli was a bit of a bastard but I still had an amazing night and later that day I was happier than ever that nothing had happened between Oli and I us due to to a very unexpected text message....

Until next time!

Didier - Part 2

So despite the inevitable wine head the next morning I had had a really nice time with Didier..and not just because of his glorious wine cave. Ok, it was due to the visit of said wine cave that I couldn't remember much about the actual sex (clearly I had still been drunk the morning after the night before) but I did remember that it wasn't horrible and that is always a good start right...riiight?! Well, that's what I chose to tell myself anyway.

Even if I couldn't remember the exact details of getting frisky with Didier I really had the impression that he was a bit of a keeper - he was hot, had a great job, was super sweet and best of all seemed to be really into me. So it was with this in mind that I debated doing something that this Anglolut doesn't really do. I decided that perhaps it would be a good idea to hold off and not have sex with him the next time I saw him. Now , I know that this is nothing unusual for most people but my mind goes more like this:

• boy likes girl
• girl likes boy
• boy and girl fancy each other
• boy and girl are capable of giving each other great pleasure
• boy and girl have great (hopefully!) sex and may or may not live happily ever after.

So it was with my virtual chastity belt on that I tottled over to Didiers in the snow (in heels) the next weekend. He's really into old movies and had never seen Roman Holiday, I love that movie and also happen to have it on dvd so we had arranged to watch it. Again he proved his sweetness when I got there and had a variety of chocolate biscuits waiting and introduced me to carambars (yummy!). We snuggled down on the sofa and watched Roman Holiday and I realized that if I wanted a boyfriend this would've been the perfect scenario: huge snowdrops falling down outside whilst all warm inside with a handsome man to keep me warm. I should have been concentrating on Audrey Hepburn running riot around Rome but all I could think about was how sexy Didier was and how hard it was going to be to say no....

It wasn't long before my resistance was tested. Throughout the movie Didier had tried it on with several sneaky attempts to stick his hand down my bra/pants only to be met with a slap on the hand. After the movie finished he really turned on the charm with the oh so familiar 'you have such beautiful eyes' followed up with a 'but you know that already'...huh? I do?! Do I walk around with a sign around my neck saying 'I have beautiful eyes'?! That wasn't what charmed me though, after a particularly passionate kiss it was very clear by the bulge in Didiers jeans that his mind was no longer on the movie and that he reeeally wanted to have his wicked way with me. I was really good though and I totally resisted.

For about ten minutes.

We both had plans for later on that evening and so wrapped up warm for the bitter winter evening outside. My silly heels teamed with my big coat, cozy hat, scarf and gloves must've made me look like a walking contradiction but I didn't care. As Didier switched off the living room light somehow we ended up in one last kiss for the evening and well....I guess I couldn't resist just checking to see if he still had the huge erection going on...As soon as my had ahem...grazed...down there it was like an explosion! Coats were being ripped off, gloves and hats discarded and the next thing I knew Didier was fumbling with the button on my pants and was pulling them down. In true Frenchman fashion a condom seemed to appear out of nowhere (still a mystery to me where that came from but I imagine he had had it in the back pocket of his jeans all afternoon the expectant devil!) and the next thing I knew we were doing it up against the wall - woohoo for shorter than average men after all! It was so hot and passionate and really was like a scene out a movie. And this time there was no doubt about it...it was fantastic!

Afterwards Didier walked me to the metro and we said goodbye with huge grins on our faces. He told me it was a moment that he would never forget and I absolutely had to agree with him.

 

Older But Absolutely Not Wiser...

This week I celebrated what was my 4th and very likely last birthday celebration in Paris and it made me think about what I have learned about men over the past few years of Parisian living. My 1st birthday celebration in the city of lights was spent with two mecs (guys) that my friend and I had hung out with a few times. One of them I got on with very well, there was lots of flirting and some potential for a little French romance...well, that's what I thought until it emerged that he was engaged, stupid of me I know not to have spotted the ring on that all imprtant finger. (what kind of guy wears an engagement ring anyway?!) Funnily enough, that friendship fizzled out soon after.
My next encounter with a Frenchman was with an not-so-attractive guy called Phillipe. We met in a nightclub when I was stupidly drunk and had been abandoned by my friend who was erm...busy(!) with some 18 year old in the corner.  He told me "you eez so beautiful, such beeeautiful eyez...I zwill take you for a nicce deener in an nicce restaurant", maybe it was the French accent and the compliments that made me abandon my poor friend and leave the club with Phillipe (actually it was probably the large amounts of vodka that I'd consumed but we wont go into that) and the next thing I knew I was in the back of a car zooming down the Champs Elysees. To this day I still have no idea where Phillipe's place was located. What I do remember was the feeling of revulsion as we got back to his place and he rammed his snakey tongue down my throat. Along with the immediate groping (where was the anticipation??) and the feeling that I was going to throw up, it was not going well. When a guy takes your hand and tried to shove it down his pants to be met with an involuntary shudder I think even he knows it's not going well and so Phillipe stopped his advances and we both went to sleep. The next morning he prodded me awake (with his fingers and no, not down there) and told me "you mussst go now, my son eez coming". Ha, what happened to the promise of my romantic meal?!
Of course at that point I should have put my shoes on with dignity and made a hasty retreat, but oh no, things never plan out so smoothly. With a sinking heart I realised that I had absolutely NO cash. In my drunken exit from the club I had taken our flat keys but had left all our cash with my friend. (sorry once again for that one J!). At this point I had lived in Paris for under a month - I had no idea how easy it is to jump the metro here. What could I do? The obvious answer was to ask Phillipe for the 1.60 it would take to get me home but seeing as he was no longer the romantic Frenchman he was the night before and had rolled over and had gone back to sleep after giving me my marching orders I thought better of it. I was pretty much freaking out and had that awful sick feeling in my tummy (I was wearing 4" heels - was I going to have to walk home in them?!) when I spotted Phillipes wallet on his bedside table. I have to stress that I was only going to take 1.60 for the metro, I'm not some skank who stays with a guy and then steals from him but at this point I was utterly freaking out and wasn't thinking straight. As I picked up Phillipe's wallet hoping to find change he suddenly jerked up awake. Quickly I put it back down and asked him where the closest metro was but it was too late - he had clearly seen me. Without a word he picked up his wallet, phone and camera and locked them in the bathroom with him as he took a shower. I have never been so ashamed and so made my very fast exit! Funnily enough he never did call me for that dinner date. It took me a long time to get home that day but that is a whole other story in itself. The lesson here? Never abandon your friend in a club, especially when you have no money.
Other lessons that I have learned since then? I'm not sure I have learned many. What I have learned though is that a French accent still makes a guy seem sexy, I still fall for insincerity and I absolutely put far too much faith in people.I have no problem with casual sex but some men will say anything to get you to bed, they will lie, cheat and will say whatever they think you want to hear, they will promise you the world just so that they can have their wicked way with you. I cant stand liars and am begining to think that the next guy that gets me into bed will have to be one who is honest and utters something along the immortal line of "you and me baby aint nothin' but mammels so lets do it like they do on the discovery channel". At least there is pure honestly in that.

Encounter 4 - Didier, Part 1

I don't remember much about the very first night that I met Didier except that I was pretty hammered after indulging in too much wine in a bar. My friend had been talking to his friend, we shared a quick kiss and the next day I discovered this verrrry handsome new guy added to my facebook friends. He worked in advertising for a very well known French company, seemed utterly adorable, very sweet and very French!
About a week after we met he popped up on my Facebook and started to chat away, en francais bien sur! Chatting to cute guys online is a great way to practice your French and is far more enjoyable than paying lots of money for boring French lessons. However...my French isn't so great and it led to a little misunderstanding. Didier asked if I would like to meet the next night for a drink and of course I did. He said something about a wine cave near his place and we arranged where and when to meet the next night. So the next night we met up and I have to confess that he was shorter than what I remembered, at 160cm I am not exactly tall so it is bad news when I think that a guy is short. Nonetheless he was really hot with green eyes and floppy hair...even if he was sans designer stubble! He started to lead the way to where we were going and led me right to his front door! I was pretty confused - I thought we were going to a bar and yes, I know it was stupid but I got good vibes off the guy so rather than admit my pathetic level of French I decided just to see it through and when we entered his flat and he produced a lovely bottle of expensive champagne I knew I wouldnt regret that decision.
I love being in peoples homes for the 1st time, I think you can tell so much about them. In my home I have photos on the wall, loads of books and DVDs, cute cards sent from my family and you can tell I like pink. Didiers place was minimal to perfection. There was no books/cd's or anything like that lying around, it was impossible to tell what his interests were! He wasn't from Paris and he asked me why I was single, I asked him same thing. His answer? "It is so difficult to find a wife in Paris, these women are very cold. But I am very glad I have met you"...like just whoa!!! What can a girl even reply to that?! However I just smiled and drank my champagne and tried not to get weirded out. After the 1st bottle of champage Didier regretfully told me that all he had in his kitchen was red wine. Me, not being a fan of red wine told him that water would be fine but nooooo.... He told me to put my shoes on and follow him....
As I followed him down the stairs and towards the cellars I was beginning to wonder if my instincts had failed me and this guy was infact a crazy serial killer who was going to chop me up into tiny pieces. I was pleasantly surprised to find this wasn't the case and was shocked by what I saw: in his small cave there was wine EVERYWHERE!!! I do not exaggerate when I say there was hundreds of bottles. There was wine glasses, books on wine, wine in boxes, wine in bags, bottles of wine and champagne just sitting on the floor...as Didier selected another nice bottle of champagne (worth like 60euros, I totally checked it out in a shop a few days later!) I could only stand open mouthed. I'm sure I must've looked very attractive! We headed back upstairs and well, after two bottles of champagne I'm sure you can figure out the rest. I wont go into detail except to say that yet again there was a plentiful stash of condoms right beside the bed,,,,
The next orning I woke up at 9am (urgh, so early!) to find that Didier was already up, dresssed and eating breakfast. Not wanting him to think I was a lazy cow I got up and did my best to pretend that I was a) not hungover and b) perfectly used to getting up at such a ungodly hour at the weekend. Here I witnessed Didiers 1st weirdo Frenchism...he was drinking his tea out a bowl! Like a breakfast bowl that a person would eat their cereal out of. Why do French people do that?! Why not just have 2 mugs of tea? He also seemed to have endless amounts of energy and enthusiasm and weirdo Frenchism number 2 - he always said 'hup!'...Just.dont.get.it! Anyway, he told me that he was up early because he had to go and meet a friend. I figured that I may as well take advantage of him while I had him and dragged him back to the bedroom to make him late. When I finally allowed him to escape my clutches he told me to stay in bed and to stay for as long as I wanted. Very trusting you might think but as I said this guy seemed to have nothing but wine for belongings...
So he said a very sweet goodbye and left me lying in his bed and despite his strange Frenchisms and apparent search for a wife it was another a bientot to another handsome Frenchman.

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!