Sleeping With Paris (9 page)

I took a couple of Aleve and downed two glasses of water while I gazed out my window at the tree-lined path behind my dorm. The leaves on the trees were just starting to change colors, making the view even more charming and beautiful than it already was. I was having a hard time appreciating it though.

I had wanted to live and study in Paris for so long, and now here I was, feeling miserable and lonely in the most romantic city in the world. Plus, I’d already started off on the wrong foot with Madame Rousseau. I wanted to believe that she was a nice woman, that she’d recommend me to a wonderful school, and that a year from now I’d be happily teaching at my dream job in Paris. But, after the stunt I’d pulled and the wreck of a phone conversation we’d had afterward, I wasn’t too hopeful.

I checked the clock; it was already two p.m. I couldn’t believe I had slept that late. I picked up my cell phone to see if I had missed any calls but saw that I had a text message instead. It was from a number I didn’t recognize. It read:

I kissed you baby. I love the American girl. More kisses this week. I call you soon. Hope you had the good night.

I burst into laughter. No doubt it was from Frédéric. Nothing like a hilarious text message from a random French boy to brighten my mood. I immediately called Lexi.

“Hey babe,” Lexi said as she yawned into the phone. “I’m so hung over from last night, but it was totally worth it. That guy was such a sweet kisser. How are you?”

“I’m tired too. I just woke up actually. Speaking of those guys, I just got a text message from mine. Wait until you hear this.” 

I read her the message, and we both laughed hysterically into the phone.

“You better get used to it. I have a whole slew of absurd foreign boy text messages saved on my phone. He was pretty hot though. Are you going to see him again if he calls you?”

“I think so. He was a lot of fun, not that I remember too much. But I need all I can get right now, so I’m open to whatever.”

“You definitely need some sexy man action after everything your ex just put you through. You poor thing, how are you holding up?”

“I’m doing okay for the most part, I guess. I have these moments where I miss him so much, and I just want to forget about everything and go back to him. But I know I can’t do that, and I know things will be fine here,” I lied just a little bit. I wasn’t really sure if I’d be okay or if that gnawing feeling in my stomach would ever go away. But I did know that I couldn’t go back to Jeff. I’d been known to hold a grudge or two, and cheating was one of the offenses I’d never been able to forgive. If I did go back to him, I’d hold it over his head forever.

“Yeah, honey,” Lexi continued. “It’s just going to take some time. Plus you have me now, and we’re going to tear things up in Paris, so don’t you worry,” she assured me.

“Thanks, Lexi. Hey, so what’s the story with you and Benoît? Are you guys still dating?”

“Yeah, we’re still seeing each other. It’s not serious though, and definitely not exclusive.  I’m just not that kind of girl. I like to go out and have my fun, you know? There’s no point in tying yourself down when shit happens like what just happened to you. No offense or anything.”

“None taken. I totally agree. Men are pretty much good for sex, and . . . well, that’s about it!”

“You got it, girl. And, like I told you, that’s the one thing that Benoît is extremely good at. I’m sure Luc isn’t so bad himself.”

“Really, you think he’s good in bed?” I remembered then that I was supposed to go over to Luc’s for dinner that night. 

“Oh yeah, no doubt about it. Have you seen that ass? Get a move on it! It’s obvious that he likes you.”

“Well, he’s cooking me dinner tonight. At least that will help me get my mind off of everything.”

“Well, there you go. It’s in the bag. I gotta run, but keep me posted on how tonight goes, and let’s definitely go out again soon. Talk to you later, Charlotte.”

Lexi was a wild woman. Much wilder than Katie, or any of my other friends for that matter. But, a wild relationship-hater friend was just what I needed right now.

I thought about what Lexi had said about Luc. I wondered how she knew he was good in the sack. Probably just a rumor through mutual friends . . . but, it wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d slept with him at one point. On the other hand though, Lexi didn’t really seem like Luc’s type. Not that I knew him that well . . . or really at all. Oh well, it didn’t matter. I needed to focus on having some fun with Luc tonight and moving on. Yes, Jeff and I had just broken up, but what was the point of sitting around and feeling sorry for myself when I knew I wasn’t going to go back to him? I decided to get moving and start primping for my dinner with Luc that night. Before any of that though, I had to sign onto my blog to share the latest.

I was surprised to see that I had five new comments. Three were from my friends, and two were from girls I didn’t even know. All five of the women were right on board with my train of thought. A woman named Jill from Indiana had commented on my very first post:

“This is better than any self-help book. Keep the adventures flowing and the lessons coming. I’m sending this to all of my girlfriends. You’re definitely onto something here. Can’t wait to read more.”

Another woman, K.T. from New York, wrote:

“I just found out that my boyfriend of six years has been sleeping with another woman for the past year. I’m devastated. One of my friends forwarded me your blog. I love this idea—dating like a man, but beating them at their own game. Count me in. You hang in there too—I know you must be hurting.”

Inspired by my new online friends, I composed a new post:

Rule # 1 – Have no shame and treat it like a game.

Horny, drunk guys will approach almost any woman in a bar, give them a corny line, get shot down and do it again. They clearly have no shame. Because to them, it’s all a game of who they can score next.

We can do the same thing ladies, but of course we’ll do it with a finesse that men could never possess. Don’t be afraid to talk to a cute guy in a bar. After all, if he disses you, he’s not worth your time anyway. And remember, we don’t care if we ever see him again. Put yourself out there to meet new guys, and don’t expect any of them to be your Mr. Right. Who is that dude anyway? I know I’ve never met him.

Rule # 2 – Resist all temptation to get back with sleazy exes.

To do this, you must follow lesson # 1 above. If you’re sitting at home alone remembering all of the good old days, this is a perfect time for your nasty, cheating ex to sneak up on you and attack. This is dangerous.

You must be meeting other men to counteract an attack of this sort. Because, believe me, after those cheaters have had a little bit of time to sit with the weight of their actions, they will come crawling right back to you, begging for mercy.

Don’t. Give. In.

Rule # 3 – Protect your heart at all costs.

After you’ve put your ex in his place, you may still secretly hope he will continue fighting for you. In these moments of desperation, remember that he was the one who chose to give you up when he cheated, and that even though you are hurting more than you ever thought possible, protecting your heart should be your number one priority. Don’t let him or your overwhelming emotions convince you otherwise.

Eight

samedi, le 2 octobre

Always bring a to-go box on a dinner date—you never know if you’ll

have to flee the scene.

At seven o’clock on the dot, I was ready to go. I had thrown together a casual but sexy outfit. I was wearing my favorite dark jeans paired with a pretty, light pink tank that showed off my cleavage. No need for modesty at this point. It was time to go for it.

I walked the five steps down the hall to Luc’s place and knocked on the door. A whiff of butter and tomato sauce wafted past me as his smiling face appeared in the doorway.

“
Salut Charlotte
,” he said sweetly as he kissed my cheeks.

Oh my gosh, Luc is so incredibly gorgeous. Maybe we can just skip dinner?

“
Salut Luc
,” I said as I returned the kisses.

Luc’s place was much roomier than mine. It was more like a studio apartment than a teeny dorm room. He had it sectioned off into two separate spaces, a living room with a couch and a small kitchen table, and then a bedroom area with a real bed (not a plastic cot mattress like the one I had). The bare walls and limited color scheme screamed bachelor pad, but it was clean and comfortable, and it smelled of basil, garlic and Luc’s cologne. I liked it.

He poured me a glass of red wine and led me over to his miniature kitchen table to have a seat. He had made a dish of linguini, fresh tomatoes and mozzarella, a colorful salad and cheesy garlic bread. I was impressed. Most men had no idea what they were doing in the kitchen.

“This looks delicious,” I said as I took in the smell of the meal. “I love Italian food.”

“You do? You like zee, euh, pasta? I am so happy because I did not know what you liked, but I thought to myself today, this . . . this will be good.”  He raised his glass and clinked it with mine as he flashed a warm smile my way. He was such a sweet guy, not at all cocky or pretentious. I couldn’t have asked for a better rebound after my broken engagement disaster.

“So, Charlotte, you have lived in France before?”

“Yeah, I lived with a host family in Lyon for a semester in college.”

“Really? I have family in Lyon. It is beautiful there, is it not?”

“I loved every minute of it. I can’t wait to go back and visit this year . . . but I’m not sure when I’ll be able to go. This whole being a poor student thing doesn’t really lend to traveling around Europe.”

“I know. I am a poor student too. I’m getting my master’s degree in education right now. I want to be a teacher, like you. That is the only reason why I live here in the dorm.”

“You’ll love teaching, and I’m sure you’ll be really great at it. I did think you looked a little old to be living in a dorm though,” I poked at him.

“Hey, hey. Well, yes, I guess I am kind of old.”

“How old are you?” I asked as I savored a bite of linguini and basil.

“I am twenty-nine. I will be thirty in March. And you?”

“Haven’t you learned that rule? You can never ask a woman how old she is.”

“That is a silly rule. Come on, tell me.”

“I know, I’m just kidding. I think it’s silly too. I’m twenty-five.”

“You are so young. Only twenty-five?”

“What, did you think I was a lot older or something?”

“No, no, it’s just that life was so different at twenty-five.” Luc stared off in the distance for a second.

“What were you doing when you were twenty-five?” I asked him, curious to find out what he was thinking about.

“Euh . . . well, I was living in a nice apartment in the 6th arrondissement,
working in finance, and making a lot of good money.”

“Sounds like fun. I bet you were going out a lot too—probably a heart-breaker,” I flirted as I took a sip of my plum-flavored wine.

“Actually no, that was not the case.” Luc shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“No?” I was curious to see where this was heading.

“No, I was married.”

Now, there’s a conversation stopper. I wasn’t sure what to say to that. But, of course, being a girl, I wanted to know the
whole
story.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.” Luc’s eyes darted around the room avoiding my glance.

“Did . . . are you . . .still married?” I thought I’d throw that question out there just in case.

“
Mais, non
. Of course not.”

Of course not, because all marriages end in divorce, that’s why.

“Right. So, how long have you been on your own?”

Luc got up from the table to grab the bottle of wine. “
Un peu plus
?”

“Sure, thank you.”

“Enough about me. How do you like Paris?” he asked as he filled up my glass. Guess he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

  It didn’t look like I’d be getting any more juicy information out of Luc for the night. Even though I wanted to know every little detail (like who is your ex-wife? Where does she live? Why did you get a divorce? Was it your fault or hers?), I had to remind myself that I wasn’t here to get involved with him. I was here to date and have fun. So, just because my instinct was to grill him (or to run for the hills), I relaxed back in my chair, enjoyed my second glass of wine, and continued our discussion.

“It’s been a little hard adjusting, but I think I’m really going to like—”

Luc’s phone interrupted me. He checked the number on the screen, scrunched up his eyebrows exactly as he had done the other night at the bar, and said “
Excuse-moi Charlotte
, I have to answer this.” He bolted out into the hallway, leaving me alone in his room.