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/

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!