This story begins on October 8th, 2011 when a 23 year old boy runs after a 23 year old girl as she is leaving a cocktail bar, hands her his business card, and invites her to learn to wine taste at his place.
How it ends I don't yet know.
But what follows is part of their story, however long it may last or what ever may come of it. And no matter what happens, it's a story this California girl will always, always cherish.
* * *
On Thursday I was set to depart for Avignon to my French Wine Baron. I could barely barely contain myself. I left for the Gare de Lyon right after class ended at 13h30 and waited anxiously to board the TGV. Once on, I couldn't bear to read the books I had brought. I looked out the window for two and a half hours at the insanely beautiful country that is France. I was nervous, but falling more and more in love with the country by the minute.
I was also smiling like an idiot.
J'appartiens à la France. I belong to France.
Unfortunately my FWB had a last minute mandatory meeting he couldn't get out of, so he sent his best friend Y to pick me up from the train station. This was hilarious because as I later learned, best friend Y's wife also had to be picked up, the first time she came over to see him, by Y's friend. Oh my. Must be a French guy thing...or maybe a way to test the girl in question? Who knows. Either way, Y and his wife M had also invited FWB and I to dinner at their home that night, and FWB was meeting us at their place afterward.
I was super nervous to be meeting besty, but once I said hi things were fine. Y is a fantastically warm, funny, and amazing gentleman, as I learned over the weekend. We wound our way from the Avignon TGV to his place. Once parked, he started asking me questions and it became evident that FWB had given him the 411 about me. Right down to how we met in a cocktail bar. I didn't know if that was good or bad.
After Y and I had made it to his apartment, I met his wife, M, whom I adore! I handed them the chocolate I had brought to thank them for dinner and we got to chatting. I asked if FWB had told them the story of how we met. They nodded in the affirmative. I laughed.
¨Well, there's FWB's version, and then there's Lindsay's version...¨
¨Give us the Lindsay version then!¨
So I did. Right down to the part where I told them I thought I'd never in my wildest dreams see him again. They were slicing potatoes for a gratin over a cutting board and they both laughed.
¨Ohhhhh you don't know FWB then,¨ they chuckled. ¨He's very special. He's rare. An old soul. He will come and find you. He will hunt you down!¨
¨That's funny,¨ I looked at M. ¨People call me an old soul too.¨
I sipped a glass of wine and waited nervously for FWB to arrive. Suddenly the doorbell rang.....and there he was, his beaming blue eyes above a dark blue sweater. I came forward to bise him when all I really wanted to do was wrap him in a huge hug and plant a kiss on him. I wanted to put my arms around him and run my fingers through his hair and just be.
Naturally, FWB showed up with the wine (two bottles, to be precise), explained to us what they were and how they were classed, then poured us all glasses.
As the night went on, and after sipping on red wine, I got to know more about my FWB...like the fact that he loves (and lots of Frenchmen, for that matter LOVE LOVE LOVE ) disco, especially French disco by a singer named Claude François, or Clo Clo for that matter. Well known for ¨Alexandra Alexandrine¨ and ¨Chanson Populaire¨. If you are at French parties or weddings, Clo Clo will inevitably make an appearance. He's like their Barry White. Not to mention FWB likes Barry too...
When we see each other after a long time, we're both hesitant for a while...as if we're both afraid of figuring out what we are to one another. But then it all clicks into place and it's like we never left one another. He finally came close to me and toward the end of the evening had his hand on the small of my back and on my arm and was fiddingly affectionately with the belt on my dress. I likewise had my arm around him.
¨So what are you going to show Lindsay this weekend?¨ Y and M asked FWB. We were all speaking English so that M could understand.
¨Oh, we'll see...¨ he smiled his huge big coy smile with his thick southern French accent.
I said I was nervous about meeting FWB's mom and dad and grandma. They burst into laughter again.
¨With FWB, this is the order of things in life: 1. His village 2. Cheese 3. Grandma!¨
We were all joking and having an amazingly good time. Once Claude François broke out though, near dessert, it was all over. FWB and Y were hooting and hollering and dancing up a storm. That is until Y and his wife M were giggling and FWB took my hand and pulled me into the spare room and planted a good, solid kiss on me, pulling me tight to him with his arms around my waist.
Again again again again please.
At that point FWB grabbed my suitcase and as it was 23h30 at night, we thanked Y and M for dinner and headed to his car to drive out to his tiiiiiny little wine making village, about 35 minutes away.
And so we sped along in the dark in his car, Claude François blasting on the radio, his hand alternating between holding mine and affectionately stroking my knee.
Little did I know that I was in store for what has been thus far the most romantic, amazing weekend I have ever had in my life.
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YAY!
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