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Saturday, April 22, 2006 

Sunday in Paris...

April 9, 2006

I left the hotel around noon. I needed to find an internet cafe, and to add some additional minutes to my phone. It being Sunday, however, everything was closed as I walked up Rue de Rivoli. Argh! I thought that maybe the Forum des Halles would be open, but no luck. The only things open there were a shoe store, the aquatic center, and Starbucks. After being followed by three separate, yet surprisingly persistent men trying to pick me up (whom I put off by speaking solely in English, shaking my head and shrugging my shoulders,) I went into Starbucks. I know, I groaned too, but it was open. I bought a bottle of Badoit and sat in a corner and read for a while.

One of the guys whom I had put off saw me through the window and came in. He wanted me to go with him. I'd had enough. What is wrong with this guy? Finally, I said to him "Écoutez-moi, bien: je ne veux pas parler à toi!" (Listen, I do not want to speak to you!) He left.

Soon after, I left. With no plans, I decided to just wander. When I got out to the street, I looked at my phone to check the time, and noticed I had two text messages. Huh. The first said "Good morning! How are you today? Fun night? If you are free for lunch, we could meet up or go somewhere in the afternoon." The next said "This is Scottie* the Scottish guy that you met at the Rosbif pub, in case you didn't recognise the number."

I kind of laughed at the messages because they were perfectly punctuated, unlike most of the texts my friends and I send to each other.

I called him and asked if he knew of an internet place near Les Halles. He asked where I was, and I told him I was by the Bourse de Commerce. "That round building?," he asked. He said he lived really close, and to have a seat at a cafe, and that he could meet me and take me to one. I found a bench just outside of a cafe and waited with my book. He was there just a few minutes later.

He took me to a place, I checked my email while he played a game on his phone. When I'd finished, we went to the counter, and he paid the man for me. "Thanks!," I said.
"No, problem. I was thinking of going to the Louvre and checking out the Islamic art exhibition...do you want to come?" I, of course, had no plans, so I said "yes."

The line was remarkably short to get into the Louvre. We went to purchase tickets, and he paid for mine, which made me a little uncomfortable because I'm used to paying for everything myself. I did thank him, though. The exhibit was really good, though quite small. We wandered through French masterpieces and Middle Eastern sculptures for a while. I ran into a teacher from my daughter's school, who was there with his girlfriend! Poor guy, he travels to France on vacation, and can't get away from the parents. Sorry!

After we escaped the Louvre - the place is labyrinthine - he asked me if I'd ever been to the Jardins du Luxembourg. I hadn't, so, we set off walking. It was full of families and little kids running amok. It was really sweet. Scottie was hungry, so I sat with him while he ate a sandwich. Then we walked around the Gardens admiring the ponds and the trees.

Okay. Now, this is how lame I am. It wasn't really until this point that I started to think "Oh my God...I think this is a date." It hadn't even occurred to me. I thought we were just hanging out. That he was being nice because I was alone in the City, and, well, that was it.

He mentioned that there was supposedly some cool market at Bercy, and we should check it out. We found our way to the Métro, and went to Bercy. It was kind of strange. A sports complex, ice skating rink, large hotel, and a cool skate park for kids with skateboards, inline skates and bikes. But not a whole lot else. Oh well.

We'd spent quite a lot of time together by this time, and had done a lot of walking. I was getting a little tired. He suggested we go have a drink. We took the Métro, going back toward Les Halles.

When we got off the train, as we were walking, he took my hand.

As we walked I was thinking "Really? Me? You're interested in me? You want to walk around in public holding my hand? Really?" Um, yeah. I have some self-esteem issues. But I was happy.

We went back to the bar where we'd met. There was a huge football match on: Man United vs. Arsenal, and the place was packed. I got us seats at a table with three other guys, while he made his way to the bar. When he came back, we talked a bit while he made fun of the music on my iPod. We drank, we talked, we laughed and we watched the game. A good part of this time his hand was on my thigh. Finally, he asked if I'd like for him to make me dinner. I said yes. So we went back to his place.

Now here's where it gets a little sticky for me. This is not one of those blogs that goes into every detail, and I am certainly not as anonymous as I once was, but I really want to write about this because a) it was completely surprising, b) kind of awkward and silly, and c) really, really good. Though kind of scandalous.

Please come back for the next posting if you want to skip over this sordid stuff. Thank you. You have been warned.

Okay, so we go back to his place. He lives in a fifth floor walk up. His is the floor with the balcony, so it's kind of worth the hike. It's a great place. He plugged my iPod into his speakers and we were sitting on the couch listening when he leaned in for the kiss. They say you can tell a lot from the first kiss...I'm not sure what, exactly. But it was kind of awkward. We both wear glasses, so they got in the way. Then we kind of tilted our heads at weird angles. It was funny. Anyway, we worked it out.

As he moved in for the kill, I stopped him. "Wait!," I said. "What's your name?" "It's Scottie," he replied, looking a bit taken aback. "No, no, your last name. I usually know these types of things beforehand..." "It's L'Écossais*." "Okay," I said and leaned in to kiss him again. This time it was him who said "What's your name" "Buzz*," I said. "Your last name." "Girl*" "Oh, as in (insert obscure BBC television production name here)?" "I have no idea."

You know, I was going to go into more detail, but it occurs to me that I've already written all the details in my travel journal, so I'll just give the highlights:

Proof that I had no clue I might be getting lucky on this trip: I had been wearing cute little panties the day before, but that day I was wearing utilitarian underpants. When I laughingly mentioned that to him, his response (predictably, I suppose) was "I don't care."

At one point, he asked me if I wanted him to make me dinner. I said no. He asked me, feigning shock, "That wasn't really the reason you came here?"

I asked if I should go, not wanting to overstay my welcome. He said he wanted me to stay the night.

This is the view from Scottie's bed...just before we went to dinner:

We went out to dinner, and I could hardly look him in the eye. When he asked me what was wrong, I blurted out "I've never had sex with someone before having dinner with them!"

Being the Francophile that I am, I am embarrassed to say I know nothing about wine, and usually don't even like the stuff. Scottie, is quite knowledgeable about these things, and ordered a wine with dinner that I really liked a lot. Who knew?

We went back to his place after dinner. I sat on the couch while he laid his head in my lap and we watched an episode of Blackadder. I was really tired, so we went to bed...

We are both people who usually sleep alone. At one point, I got up to sleep on the couch, but returned an hour or so later because it was freezing. We tossed and turned fitfully until his alarm went off and he had to get ready for work. Finally, I could get some alone time...just kidding. We parted ways at Les Halles, when he went toward La Defense, and I continued my "walk of shame" back to Bastille.

When I got back to the hotel, I had to stop at the desk to retrieve my room key. The woman at the desk was surprised to see me. "Chambre 46, Madame?," she asked.

* Names changed to protect the sexxy...

Man, I wish we'd had time to talk about this!! But I'll just tune in tomorrow....

oh la la! so not what i was expecting when i started reading and obviously not what you were thinking would happen when you planned the trip or you would have only packed the sexy underwear :) wow. i'm still in a little shock...wish we had a pic of the guy. scottish accents are hot. almost makes me wish i wasn't married. guess i'll have to live vicariously through you, buzzgirl.

Very sexy! Wow!

Woohoo! I'm so excited for you BuzzGirl! Who'd a known what a box of Girl Scout cookies could get! Kidding.... Loved your entry!

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