Yesterday I sent Monsieur Lawyer a sickeningly cute text message since I hadn't heard from him since the weekend. It was freezing cold out and the skies were covered in the murky grey underbelly of Parisian mist, so I and my California rear end were freezing ourselves to death. I said this:
¨Hello, how are you? It's super cold for this little Californian today, she'd love to cuddle with you...bisous.¨
Then for over twenty hours I didn't hear anything. I was beginning to think the worst. Was he blowing me off? Was he not as interested as I am? Did I just make a complete effing idiot of myself?
This morning I finally had an answer:
¨Lindsay?¨ he messaged me.
¨Yes?¨
Oh shit. Maybe you've decided you aren't interested. Or maybe you've found this blog and you want to kill me. Oh fuck.
¨Did you get my text yesterday?¨ He asked.
Oh thank goodness.
¨No, not at all. Did you get mine? It was super bizarre but my Blackberry shut itself off while I was running errands yesterday,¨ (complete truth, it was in my jacket pocket and I didn't know what the hell it had done to itself, then I had missed calls, mais bon), ¨ I had to take out the battery and reinsert it.¨
¨Oh no. What did you say?¨
See above text message. I then added. ¨And you?¨
A half an hour went by. Oh fuck. You are really trying to end things with me and after I just bared my all too romantic cutesy soul to you you are going to obliterate me by saying that we should stop seeing one another. Oh dammit. His final response?
¨Oh that's too cute.¨
He often says things like this to me when I do something he finds adorable. Apparently in France it is socially acceptable for men to say things of this genre: cute, adorable, endearing, darling. He often uses the word chou to describe something I've done or to tell me I am chou, which can roughly be translated as ¨dear¨ or ¨lovey¨ or ¨sweetheart.¨
He continued: ¨I told you that I saw an English girl on campus and she made me think of you and as a result I really wanted to see you right then!¨
Well melt my own damn heart. Way to swing from une cata (strophe) to wrapping me around your finger five times more. I asked him if she was called Miss Insert-My-last-name-here (he has a habit of calling me Miss My Last Name).
¨No, but she had an accent.¨
¨But not mine ;)¨
¨ Yes, I like yours a lot...¨
¨ Is that true? lol¨
¨ Yesssssss.¨
And we carried on texting all afternoon. And i justtttt wanted to see him. Now I'm swinging back to the Monsieur Lawyer side of this game...
So ladies, team Monsieur Lawyer or French Wine Baron? Who ya rootin' for?
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