Paris in the summer is nothing short of dreamy. The food is excellent, the boats pass up and down the Seine as tourists cluelessly navigate bumpy streets while sweating in their 3/4 length pantaloons. Paris and I had 2 brief encounters in 3 weeks and they were both splendid. The first included an 8 hour layover in the middle of the day, a nice ham and cheese salad, miles of walking and quite a bit of sweating. The second bears a little more explanation.
I had been staying in the southwest of France, swimming in warm water and working by day, drinking Heineken and red wine by night. I didn't want to leave one bit and decided to make the most of my departing night, in which I would arrive at 11pm and have to leave the next morning at 11am. Plenty of time to have a good time at a hotel somewhere other than the airport. I saw on facebook that a friend would be in Paris at the same time and arranged to meet. (If you're reading this... you're not reading this).
This particular young lady had held a small piece of my fancy for the first part of the year. We met on New Years and she was what I look for in a lady from what I understand of the topic: smart, sexy, and confident. She also had an excellent set of butt cheeks from what I remember beyond the haze of Jameson. She seemed interested in my buddy LeJay'De and that was that. Twas sour grapes.
I got a recommendation for a bar that (I thought) was in an area I knew in Paris. I hustled to my hostel and quickly grabbed a cab toward the bar. I didn't bring the address but I had seen a map and figured I could get there. The cabbie didn't know the bar I was asking for so I jumped out and began walking around Paris, near Norte Dame and Gare Saint-Michel. The ensuing hour included asking "where is this bar?" in French about 75 times, lots of running and lots of sweating. It also started raining.
I eventually got in another cab and asked the cabbie to take me to the bar or try to call someone to get directions. He refused and I got out before he got going. I wouldn't be meeting my friend.
But the lord provideth, and when I jumped out I saw a group of six kids a bit younger than me and heard them speaking American English. I was delirious and dazed.
"Americans!" I said.
We began talking. They were studying abroad for the year and had just arrived days before. They didn't now the city and had been walking around exploring, trying to find a bar their friends were at. We weren't so different, they and I. One of them had an excellent butt, while another took to me and she was quite cute. We walked around for a while and eventually found a bar where we could sit and look at Notre Dame from across the Seine.
I tried to figure out a way I could have sex with the cute one with the sweet ass, or the other one, or both, but it wasn't to be. My hostel bed was the top bunk in a room with 3 other guys. Not conducive to a menage a trois. Or deux. Or for that matter, un.
I licked my wounds which weren't really wounds. I was and remain a man of passion. There will never be anything to be ashamed of when it comes to that.
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