¨Guess what it is!¨ he smirked. ¨It's something I mentioned on Tuesday.¨
¨Uhm...Sade?¨ We'd been discussing the Marquis de Sade's Justine over tapas.
¨No!¨ he laughed. ¨It's something contemporary.¨
I eventually gave up and opened it. it was a copy of l'Écume des jours by Boris Vian. I, red Dior lipstick and all, kissed him on the cheek to say thank you. It was such a thoughtful gesture that I was taken aback by it and made all the more smitten. I'm not used to being on the receiving end of thoughtfulness, so this was a nice change. We ended up chatting on my coverta-couch-bed because it was cold out and were talking news and politics and history as usual. He wanted to show me some of his American friends on Facebook, so I handed him my Macbook air and signed out of my account. Sinatra was humming in the background and I was smiling and happy.
¨I tried finding you on Facebook,¨ he said. ¨I couldn't find you. Are you hidden?¨
¨Yeah. Why don't you let me find you and add you?¨ I replied.
Afterwards we decided to grab pizza at one of my favorite little Italian places in the neighborhood, he closed the computer, and we headed out the door.
He forgot to log out of his Facebook account.
* * *
On the way to Au Soleil de Naples, we shivered in the cold...autumn in all its brutal freeze has finally descended upon Paris, and I have horrible circulation in my extremities. I grabbed his hand and entwined my fingers in his.
With the way things have been going between us, I had decided to stop seeing anyone else. No discussion of exclusivity has been had, but I just don't feel right seeing more than one person, and it's really not my personality anyway. I'm naturally a one-guy-kinda-girl and don't know how to navigate the world of the pluribataire well, nor do I emotionally handle it well. And all I really want is one good one anyway. With Monsieur Lawyer, I was beginning to think I'd found a genuine, sincere, good one.
Once at the restaurant, he grabbed my hand under the table and stroked my knee with his palm. We held hands on the way back to my place, and he kissed me goodbye at the front door.
I texted him thank you and goodnight, put on my pajamas, and went to bed smiling.
* * *
The next morning, I woke up early to go running with my marathon training group, whom I love and adore and wish I could see more often...my nanny job makes it extremely hard. I figured I should check the weather to figure out how to suit up.
I grabbed my Macbook air and opened it. Monsieur Lawyer's Facebook was open to where he'd left it: his messages. On the lefthand side were all his chats.
It was not my business to look at them. I should have never touched them. If I had been a good, honest person, I would've logged out of his account immediately and left him to his own devices. But I didn't. When I saw strands and strands of chats with girls, I started clicking.
There were at least three recent chats with girls he was ¨longing to see¨, like he so often told me. He asked her ¨when will we see one another again?¨ like he did with me. There was one he was planning to meet up with on Sunday. There was another one he told ¨must be showered in compliments¨ all the time.
I should have never looked. It was none of my business. But I was angry and hurt and wanted to text him and call him out right then and there. I wanted to write on his FB wall ¨THE NEXT TIME YOU USE MY COMPUTER YOU HAD BETTER REMEMBER TO LOG OFF YOUR FB SO I DONT SEE ALL YOUR MESSAGES TO ALL THE OTHER GIRLS YOU'RE LONGING TO SEE.¨ I was livid but not sure I had the right to be livid. Was I being a hypocrite? When I had started seeing him about a month ago, I was seeing other people too. And again, we had had no talk of exclusivity...but at the same time, I couldn't help but feel that I'd been played, and that hurt.
Instead, I asked my best friend what I should do. She was nearly just as unsure as I was, but put it this way: I have the choice, either I keep seeing him or I don't, because we aren't exclusive and have not had that conversation. BUT YOU DONT HAVE THOSE CONVERSATIONS IN FRANCE! IT is just NOT part of dating culture here.
All I knew is that I wanted to cry. I liked this one and WANTED him to be a good one so badly. Instead, I suited up to go run ten miles and beat myself up over the asphalt, resisting the urge to text rip Monsieur Lawyer a new one.
* * *
It took immense effort to keep myself from sending a vicious text message on Saturday. Instead, I wanted to see what Monsieur Lawyer would do after I FB friended him. I texted him ¨hey, I added you on Facebook...have fun at your party tonight.¨
He was supposedly on the way to a friend's birthday party. I can't be sure anymore, because I'm not of the mindset I can trust him, and if I can't trust someone, I can no longer date them. Before I had no reason to distrust him, and it's my own damn fault I distrust him now. But would it be better if I had never looked? Should I have just not looked? I'm not sure what is worse: the fact I looked or the fact I found out that he's playing other women.
A while later, Monsieur Lawyer responded ¨I will! See you Sunday night?¨
Oh buddy if you only knew that I know. I played the game and said sure. I figured if he was really going to see the other chick on Sunday, he'd eventually text me some excuse or come up with a pretense.
This morning he Facebook chatted me: ¨Hey, I'm not so sure about tonight anymore, I'll let you know in a little bit?¨
Ok. You're not going to see me tonight because you're going to see Camille.
14h29: text message: ¨Tonight's going to be complicated...can I see you tomorrow at 17h30?¨
14h32: the text message I didn't send: ¨Why is it going to be complicated tonight? Because you're seeing Stéphanie or Camille or Ophélia? Monsieur, the next time you use my computer to check your Facebook, you should make sure you log out so I don't see all the messages you've sent to all the other girls you're longing to see.¨
I erased it, restrained myself, didn't send it.
I have not responded. I will not respond. I refused to be someone's second choice, I refuse even further to be someone's third or fourth choice. I will not see him anymore.
This one is officially a Peter Pan, one of those squirrelly mid-20 something year old boys who just want to play the field and do not care about being sincere. And oh lord, are they good at making you think they're sincere and honest and what you've been looking for. They are like a trompe l'oeil painting, giving off the illusion that they are real and three dimensional...but when you get close enough, you figure out that it's all fake.
I have been tromp l'oeil'd. Back to square one.
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