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!

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.

The Anglosluts guide to bagging a Frenchman...but not keeping him!

This year the British singer Jessie J released a song entitled "Do It Like A Dude"...personally I think the song is shit but some of the lyrics make me chuckle...for example:

Boom Boom, pull me a beer
No pretty drinks, I'm a guy out here
Rollin' rollin' rollin' rollin' money like a pimp
My B I T C H's on my dick like this

So ok it's little crass but it's making a point. It's 2011 and women can have as much sex as she wants to, she craves it, enjoys it and often wants it more than her male partner(s). She can be the one that pulls the condom out from the bedside drawer, she can leave without giving her number the next day and she doesn't have to be the one sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring (although lets be honest, we've all had out hearts in our mouths at some point waiting for that all important text!).

So for all you ladies out there who just want to go out and have no strings attached here is my guide to bagging your Frenchman...but not keeping him!

• First of all (and this is not essential) - be thin! I KNOW!!! That is ridiculously un-feministic of me but it's true. It's never going to be easy to get laid in this City if you have thighs like tree trunks. What's even better is if you are thin but with big (real) boobs - the poor Frenchmen just don't seem to understand how this is possible and will be temporarily facinated.
• Choose your location carefully. Anglo bars seem to be rife with ugly Frenchmen there to pick up "easy" Anglo girls. The few time I have been I have found this to be particullarly true of O'Sullivans on Grands Boulevards. Generally I would say avoid but if you are desperate....
• Your outfit - don't look trashy BUT don't go the Frenchgirl route and be classic either. Short and tight works as does low, but please, do not team these together! Bright colors are a sure way to show off your non-Frenchgirlness, especially in winter when everywhere you look you see drab greys and blacks.
• Drink alcohol, have fun! I'm not saying you have to be dancing on the bar tops but the girl who is laughing is of course going to appear easier to pick up than the girl quietly sipping her one glass of wine over 3 hours! Loud laughing in this city seems to be seriously frowned upon  - fuck it! Smile and be happy!
• Dumb down your level of French (unless he has perfect English). Your Frenchman isn't going to be inclined to introduce you to his friends/family if he thinks you can't communicate with them. So speak English with him and boost his ego by letting him think that is language skills are superior to yours.
• If you want to have sex with him the first night then do it - you're not looking for a husband here.
• Similarly if you want to text him for a 1am booty call then go ahead and do it!
• Make it known that you are avaliable for sex if that's all you are after. Wear your sexiest underwear/stockings/suspenders on the 1st date, not only will he love it but you get to feel like a sex kitten!

The most important point though is be safe! Don't put your sexual health at risk for a quick roll in the sheets and always let a friend know where you are!

Feminists please do not hunt me down and kill me - it's tongue in cheek...honest!

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...

Special Mention....

Thanks to the Expatriates in Paris Facebook group for letting me post the link to my blog on their wall! For lots of fun ways to meet new people in this city check out their website. :)

http://www.expatriateparty.com/