Guess what girl might be getting a job with a sponsored visa to start in June!?
And guess what girl also was just admitted to second round of entrance exams to interpreter school at Paris III!?
THIS ONE.
QUELS CADEAUX D'ANNIV!!
and two days early at that!
BOO-YA BEEEEEEEEETCHES! You can knock me down universe, you can knock me to my feet, but I will rise!
This totally makes up for feeling so crappy about a week ago re: sexy sexy FWB.
Insane how quickly life can spin you around on your head and throw you in the exact opposite direction! WHOOOOOOOOOOO!
Monday, January 28, 2013
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Everyone I Know is Getting Married or Pregnant
With my 25th birthday right around the corner, it seems more and more lately that my the peers slightly older than me (and even my age and younger!) are getting married or pregnant.
This was even truer for my mom's generation, where most people got married in their early to mid-twenties and were popping out kids by the time they were my age. My madre got married at 22 and had me a month or so shy of her 25th birthday.
(Can we stop and pause for a second to consider that if I WERE my mother I'd already have a newborn!? Like holy mother of sweet baby beluga WHALES is that scary! Not that I can't handle kids. I can. But knowing what a responsibility they are and how much of a LIFE SUCK they are, I fully want to live my life before devoting myself to parental pursuits. Enough said.)
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Ok, ok, I get it, I'm young. And believe me, I don't want to rush these things: the last thing I ever want to aim for is to marry the wrong one. I'm a firm believer that it is BY FAR better to have none than to have the wrong one. I am not one of those women who, out of fear of being alone, is going to leap into the arms of Mr. Almost-Right-Could-be-Right-if-it-Weren't-for-TOTALLY-NOT-RIGHT for me. Not my style. I'm not aiming for a divorce or even to put any potential children through a divorce. I've already been through one (my parent's), thank you, and that's enough for me!
That said, twenty five can be (is?) a scary age for a young woman.
Half-way through the twenties, dammit. Where the hell did twenty to twenty-four go?
It's again, not that I want to rush things. It's more of the imponderable sense of the potential of the next five years. Do I feel like an adult at 25 like I thought I would when I was 18? Not really. I had this picture of myself at 25 when I graduated from high school: fresh out of law school, ready to start a career, in a long term relationship with someone (maybe engaged? or soon to be?), happy as a clam, maybe living in San Francisco.
REALITY CHECK:
1. Never went to law school. Finishing a Masters in French lit.
2. Sorta starting a career in fields I never knew existed or careers I don't even know if I want.
3. Not seeing any one, just had my heart trampled on by a charming French southerner. NO WHERE NEAR GETTING ENGAGED.
4. Happy? Yes. As a clam? No. Wading through the fading catastrophe of a quarter life crisis.
Maybe this would be an easier pill to swallow if all those friends weren't getting married or married or pregnant. My own two college roommates are now married! One of them at the age 22 and the other at the age of 25 this past summer.
Again, this is not a race. I do not have a biological clock staring me down violently. But it is rather hard to see the people around me and not start existentially questioning myself. And as my Best-Friend-Roomate from Berkeley would put it, ever so wisely, as she is, ¨You don't get to chose when you meet the right person.¨
Really, you don't. You only get the choice of what happens when you do meet them. And to be fair, I have plenty of friends in their thirties who are not married and do not have kids. Thank modernity and the economy for a very extended period of ¨adolescence¨ and a whole new biological-clock-defying time line for all that is getting married and having a family with someone. These friends help me at least see that I am normal being 25 and neither married nor preggers. Thank GOODNESS.
For now, I'm going to do down some mojitos on my birthday, thank my lucky stars I am not YET a parent, and that I haven't married the wrong person.
Everyone else is getting married or pregnant.
YOLO.
This was even truer for my mom's generation, where most people got married in their early to mid-twenties and were popping out kids by the time they were my age. My madre got married at 22 and had me a month or so shy of her 25th birthday.
(Can we stop and pause for a second to consider that if I WERE my mother I'd already have a newborn!? Like holy mother of sweet baby beluga WHALES is that scary! Not that I can't handle kids. I can. But knowing what a responsibility they are and how much of a LIFE SUCK they are, I fully want to live my life before devoting myself to parental pursuits. Enough said.)
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Ok, ok, I get it, I'm young. And believe me, I don't want to rush these things: the last thing I ever want to aim for is to marry the wrong one. I'm a firm believer that it is BY FAR better to have none than to have the wrong one. I am not one of those women who, out of fear of being alone, is going to leap into the arms of Mr. Almost-Right-Could-be-Right-if-it-Weren't-for-TOTALLY-NOT-RIGHT for me. Not my style. I'm not aiming for a divorce or even to put any potential children through a divorce. I've already been through one (my parent's), thank you, and that's enough for me!
That said, twenty five can be (is?) a scary age for a young woman.
Half-way through the twenties, dammit. Where the hell did twenty to twenty-four go?
It's again, not that I want to rush things. It's more of the imponderable sense of the potential of the next five years. Do I feel like an adult at 25 like I thought I would when I was 18? Not really. I had this picture of myself at 25 when I graduated from high school: fresh out of law school, ready to start a career, in a long term relationship with someone (maybe engaged? or soon to be?), happy as a clam, maybe living in San Francisco.
REALITY CHECK:
1. Never went to law school. Finishing a Masters in French lit.
2. Sorta starting a career in fields I never knew existed or careers I don't even know if I want.
3. Not seeing any one, just had my heart trampled on by a charming French southerner. NO WHERE NEAR GETTING ENGAGED.
4. Happy? Yes. As a clam? No. Wading through the fading catastrophe of a quarter life crisis.
Maybe this would be an easier pill to swallow if all those friends weren't getting married or married or pregnant. My own two college roommates are now married! One of them at the age 22 and the other at the age of 25 this past summer.
Again, this is not a race. I do not have a biological clock staring me down violently. But it is rather hard to see the people around me and not start existentially questioning myself. And as my Best-Friend-Roomate from Berkeley would put it, ever so wisely, as she is, ¨You don't get to chose when you meet the right person.¨
Really, you don't. You only get the choice of what happens when you do meet them. And to be fair, I have plenty of friends in their thirties who are not married and do not have kids. Thank modernity and the economy for a very extended period of ¨adolescence¨ and a whole new biological-clock-defying time line for all that is getting married and having a family with someone. These friends help me at least see that I am normal being 25 and neither married nor preggers. Thank GOODNESS.
For now, I'm going to do down some mojitos on my birthday, thank my lucky stars I am not YET a parent, and that I haven't married the wrong person.
Everyone else is getting married or pregnant.
YOLO.
Friday, January 25, 2013
WTF.
I grabbed dinner with a French french last night, S, who is soon leaving for a year to Australia on a working holiday visa. She happens to love sushi like I do, so we found a good sushi place near les Grands Boulevards. Afterwards, this turned into drinks and dancing across the street at an Australian bar called Café Oz.
¨Oh,¨ I laughed, ¨ I forgot to tell you!¨ We were dancing and laughing and having a good time. I had recently brought her up to speed on FWB but not the other ridiculousness that is Frenchmen in my life.
¨ Monsieur Lawyer texted out of the blue again.¨
¨What!?¨ she laughed.
¨Yep. He must think I'm stupid but I see right through him.¨
Which I do, the jerk. I love making him feel like he has a shot in HELL. Our brief text conversation went like this:
ML: ¨ I just got back from the US. Our discussions were really pertinent!¨ (He had a conference in NYC. And like I care about his discussions.)
Moi: ¨Oh really. Well I'm happy for you then.¨ (Hadn't heard from this kid since he rando texted me in December and then dropped off the face of the planet. And after straight up AVOIDING me asking him what he wanted from me).
ML: ¨ Did your apartment move go well?¨
Moi: ¨I haven't moved yet. I might ask to stay here.¨
ML: ¨ That could be good. And your research is going well?¨
Moi: ¨Yes. And you?¨
ML: ¨P.S. You really aren't like all the otherAmerican girls!¨ (Yeah, because you're a manwhore who probably wrangled a few into your bed in NYC?)
Moi: ¨Oh really?¨
ML: ¨Yes, you are sophisticated and think critically.¨
Moi: ¨Thank you, that's a nice compliment.¨
ML: ¨No, that's sincere, not flattery!¨
Moi: ¨I NEVER doubted your sincerity.¨
EVER.
And I haven't heard from him since.
All I can say is: WTF!?
He doesn't have a shot in hell. I refuse to be a mere pretty face to an jerk who is interested in only one thing.
¨Oh,¨ I laughed, ¨ I forgot to tell you!¨ We were dancing and laughing and having a good time. I had recently brought her up to speed on FWB but not the other ridiculousness that is Frenchmen in my life.
¨ Monsieur Lawyer texted out of the blue again.¨
¨What!?¨ she laughed.
¨Yep. He must think I'm stupid but I see right through him.¨
Which I do, the jerk. I love making him feel like he has a shot in HELL. Our brief text conversation went like this:
ML: ¨ I just got back from the US. Our discussions were really pertinent!¨ (He had a conference in NYC. And like I care about his discussions.)
Moi: ¨Oh really. Well I'm happy for you then.¨ (Hadn't heard from this kid since he rando texted me in December and then dropped off the face of the planet. And after straight up AVOIDING me asking him what he wanted from me).
ML: ¨ Did your apartment move go well?¨
Moi: ¨I haven't moved yet. I might ask to stay here.¨
ML: ¨ That could be good. And your research is going well?¨
Moi: ¨Yes. And you?¨
ML: ¨P.S. You really aren't like all the otherAmerican girls!¨ (Yeah, because you're a manwhore who probably wrangled a few into your bed in NYC?)
Moi: ¨Oh really?¨
ML: ¨Yes, you are sophisticated and think critically.¨
Moi: ¨Thank you, that's a nice compliment.¨
ML: ¨No, that's sincere, not flattery!¨
Moi: ¨I NEVER doubted your sincerity.¨
EVER.
And I haven't heard from him since.
All I can say is: WTF!?
He doesn't have a shot in hell. I refuse to be a mere pretty face to an jerk who is interested in only one thing.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Atoms in Collision
In light of all that has recently happened in the romantic realm of my life, I've been thinking rather existentially, and mostly about how people meet. How they form relationships. How somehow, in a given space-time continuum, they meet and click. How they crash into one another, seemingly at random, like atoms in collision. And while at any given moment they may stick together, things may also pass between them that cause them to un-stick, to separate, to go down their own paths.
We are all atoms in a large floating batch of particles seemingly bumping into one another at random; without direction, haphazardly. And the crazy thing is that sometimes, we try to make it work, we try to make ourselves stick to another atom. We think we understand the laws of physics and how to affect certain actions and reactions, but do we really?
I do not have any scientific theories about how people run into each other and meet, but it seems more and more like a random roll of the dice or the roulette wheel. R and I were discussing our theory of ¨atoms¨ through my tears Monday night, but the subject came up again when I had to pay a visit to my landlord at his little aviation antiques shop around the corner from my studio.
Monsieur F is easily in his sixties, possesses a snow capped head of white hair, but has a jovial yet un-frivolous manner. His kind eyes sit above an even kinder smile. I had stopped in to give him a letter that had come in my mailbox (I don't know why, but certain governmental letters from the Republic known as France for him come to my box) and a check I owed him for the electricity bill. I was discussing my attempt to stay here and acquire dual nationality after schooling, or even perhaps to continue schooling to become an interpreter, when he jokingly suggested I find a Frenchman. I half-jokingly told him I had tried, and gave him a quick run-down of the situation. I told him I couldn't discern if this was how twenty somethings reacted in general or if these was particularly French of my FWB.
Monsieur F replied that excuses are just that: excuses. ¨ I was 22 and dating my wife when I was slated to leave to North Africa for two years for military service. The timing was horrible,¨ he explained. ¨ I had never planned on getting married young, but we essentially married for papers so she could come visit me. We've been together for forty years now.¨
After hearing me talk a little bit more about FWB, he offered this bit of wisdom: that FWB just simply was not mature enough yet and that, mark his word, sooner or later, when he is finally mûr, he'll figure out what an idiot he'd been and come around.
Whether this is true or not I do not care. What I do find funny is that he added this afterwards:
¨ How you meet people is so funny,¨ he laughed. ¨You could, for all you know, meet the love of your life tomorrow if he sets down his shopping cart next to yours in the grocery store line.¨
Like atoms randomly colliding, with no pattern or predictability of any sort.
My grip on the believe that things happen for a reason is slowly loosening.
We are all atoms in a large floating batch of particles seemingly bumping into one another at random; without direction, haphazardly. And the crazy thing is that sometimes, we try to make it work, we try to make ourselves stick to another atom. We think we understand the laws of physics and how to affect certain actions and reactions, but do we really?
* * *
I do not have any scientific theories about how people run into each other and meet, but it seems more and more like a random roll of the dice or the roulette wheel. R and I were discussing our theory of ¨atoms¨ through my tears Monday night, but the subject came up again when I had to pay a visit to my landlord at his little aviation antiques shop around the corner from my studio.
Monsieur F is easily in his sixties, possesses a snow capped head of white hair, but has a jovial yet un-frivolous manner. His kind eyes sit above an even kinder smile. I had stopped in to give him a letter that had come in my mailbox (I don't know why, but certain governmental letters from the Republic known as France for him come to my box) and a check I owed him for the electricity bill. I was discussing my attempt to stay here and acquire dual nationality after schooling, or even perhaps to continue schooling to become an interpreter, when he jokingly suggested I find a Frenchman. I half-jokingly told him I had tried, and gave him a quick run-down of the situation. I told him I couldn't discern if this was how twenty somethings reacted in general or if these was particularly French of my FWB.
Monsieur F replied that excuses are just that: excuses. ¨ I was 22 and dating my wife when I was slated to leave to North Africa for two years for military service. The timing was horrible,¨ he explained. ¨ I had never planned on getting married young, but we essentially married for papers so she could come visit me. We've been together for forty years now.¨
After hearing me talk a little bit more about FWB, he offered this bit of wisdom: that FWB just simply was not mature enough yet and that, mark his word, sooner or later, when he is finally mûr, he'll figure out what an idiot he'd been and come around.
Whether this is true or not I do not care. What I do find funny is that he added this afterwards:
¨ How you meet people is so funny,¨ he laughed. ¨You could, for all you know, meet the love of your life tomorrow if he sets down his shopping cart next to yours in the grocery store line.¨
Like atoms randomly colliding, with no pattern or predictability of any sort.
* * *
Sometimes it is hard for me to believe there is no underlying cosmic pattern or force at work, especially as someone who tends to believe there is a reason for everything. Perhaps it is just a coping mechanism of mine that gives me comfort when things happen to me that I can bear in no other way than closing my eyes and saying to myself that one day I will understand.My grip on the believe that things happen for a reason is slowly loosening.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Une parenthèse après la course
I did my crying yesterday, in intermittent streams, trying to hold it all in, to master my emotions and control them and put on my brave face. In the morning I went to the bakery as usual and bought a brioche and a pain au chocolat which I gave to the FWB before he left for the bateau mouche, trying to act as normal as possible though I am sure my fatigue showed in my eyes. I hadn't cried myself to sleep, had restrained myself, didn't have billowing eyelids.
I told FWB to let me know about lunch with his parents so I could pay them my respects.
At 13h30 I'd run my errands in the morning and heard nothing, so I said fuck it and ate leftover pasta, a yogurt, and an apple. Then I was online and had an offer to grab a coffee with an expat friend from my running group who moved for his job, so I took him up on it. I needed to be around people.
I made my way to the metro under the snow and once underground, eyes watering between strains of deliberately upbeat music, received a text message letting me know that FWB was sorry, but he and his family had quickly eaten something after leaving a museum.
¨I thought so,¨ I replied. ¨Not to worry. I'm out grabbing coffee with a friend and then I have an apéro and dinner with a girl friend. I left you a message. Can you leave the keys in the mailbox?¨
¨Ok perfect.¨
It was probably for the best not to see his parents, but I was pissed nonetheless. I'm not an idiot. I can see right through the bullshit. I didn't count on seeing him before he left. Probably, again, for the best.
I can't tell if he was aware of this all and deliberately did what he did or if he truly didn't know what he wanted this to be or to become, tried to see where it would go, then figured out he couldn't make the commitment. I find it hard to believe he was not attached at all.
I am not going to attempt to answer any of those questions, it will only drive me mad. The key phrase of 2013 so far is ¨Who the HELL knows?¨
Not me.
I'll still be writing, believe me, but I'm not quite ready to see other people yet. It might be a little while, for my own sake.
I told FWB to let me know about lunch with his parents so I could pay them my respects.
At 13h30 I'd run my errands in the morning and heard nothing, so I said fuck it and ate leftover pasta, a yogurt, and an apple. Then I was online and had an offer to grab a coffee with an expat friend from my running group who moved for his job, so I took him up on it. I needed to be around people.
I made my way to the metro under the snow and once underground, eyes watering between strains of deliberately upbeat music, received a text message letting me know that FWB was sorry, but he and his family had quickly eaten something after leaving a museum.
¨I thought so,¨ I replied. ¨Not to worry. I'm out grabbing coffee with a friend and then I have an apéro and dinner with a girl friend. I left you a message. Can you leave the keys in the mailbox?¨
¨Ok perfect.¨
It was probably for the best not to see his parents, but I was pissed nonetheless. I'm not an idiot. I can see right through the bullshit. I didn't count on seeing him before he left. Probably, again, for the best.
* * *
At coffee that afternoon friend and I were talking about life in general, lots of different questions about life choices. I am convinced that when the student is reader the teacher appears. I was lucky to count him amongst two teachers that afternoon.
His main point was this: life is too short to put off tomorrow what you can do today, whatever it may be. And that now is the time to live life to the fullest.
I suppose, as lots of people have put it now, I can be very selfish about any and all decisions I make now in 2013. I don't have to take a relationship into account.
* * *
One thing I have learned this past fall, from Monsieur Lawyer and the FWB, is this: the status of a relationship depends mostly on the guy. No matter what the girl wants. If she wants just to have fun and he wants just fun, perfect. If she wants to be serious and he wants and is, mostly importantly, in a place and time in his life where he can be and wants to be serious, it will work. If she wants to be serious and he is neither in a time or place in his life where he can be and does therefore consequently not want to be, it will NOT WORK.
If the guy is not in agreement with the ¨status¨ of the relationship, he will NOT EFFING DO WHAT IS NECESSARY to make the damn thing work. A man will not give a shit, no matter how much he likes a girl. His career, his income, and his life come first.
Lesson learned. Lesson really learned from the girl who always thought that if someone really wanted to make something work, they'd make it work, no questions asked. As my Dad used to say to me when I was little: ¨If you don't have time, you MAKE time.¨
But not everyone wants to make time. FWB included.
* * *
After coffee, instead of heading straight to Bastille to window shop and meet R for apéro and dinner, I went home to warm up. The snow was only falling stronger and with an already cold heart, I did not need an even colder body. I went home and fell asleep on my foldout Ikea couch-bed with a small stream of tears wetting my crown. I set my alarm for 17h30 so I could leave to meet R at Bastille at 18h. I had planned to leave before FWB as he said he'd leave my place at 18h.
But life is a shitshow, so right as I woke up with eyes a combination of whites gone red and irises gone bright blue, the FWB came back to get his affairs, so I ended up running into him. I kept my back to him and quickly cleaned my face.
¨Tu t'es fait jolie,¨ he said. Not a good moment to tell me I'm beautiful, bucko. I wanted to slap him. Instead I spoke in a low voice and remained very quiet.
I told him I was soon leaving. He was too. We needed to take the same métro. So we headed out with me walking ahead of him very silently and avoiding his gaze on the métro until I got to Bastille, again holding back everything the entire ride. Then I bise'd him goodbye, left the train, and didn't look back.
I burst into tears underground and kept crying until I met R at Café des Phares.
* * *
Another thing I have learned is this: I am sick and tired of men just letting me slip away. I wonder how many of them regret letting me get away, if any. If they ever think about it.
I don't know.
What I do know is that instead of thinking that they let me get away, I should think of it as good riddance for myself. I am not the one they LET get away, I am the one they saved from an unfortunately relationship by letting me leave.
* * *
At the Café des Phares, R and I sipped Sancerre and talked life. I needed alkie. She gave me big hugs, which I also needed, and we let it all out.
Then we went to Breakfast in America and had cheeseburgers and brownies. American comfort food at its finest.
I went home and cried some more. But it's all out now. I am empty, purged. Catharsis.
This morning I had to depuff my eyelids with a combination of cold spoons, cold washcloths, and cold teabags but it worked.
I wish FWB nothing but the best. I hope he succeeds. I am, however, upset and angry at his behavior and his treatment of me: why invite me for Christmas and spend this time with me if he knew it wasn't sustainable for him? Did he know he wouldn't want to make the effort later on? I was willing to make the effort. I was prepared at the beginning of December for him not to, then he did a fake play, made me think he was, and now have it all come crashing down.
For my sake I wish he hadn't.
I can't tell if he was aware of this all and deliberately did what he did or if he truly didn't know what he wanted this to be or to become, tried to see where it would go, then figured out he couldn't make the commitment. I find it hard to believe he was not attached at all.
I am not going to attempt to answer any of those questions, it will only drive me mad. The key phrase of 2013 so far is ¨Who the HELL knows?¨
Not me.
I'll still be writing, believe me, but I'm not quite ready to see other people yet. It might be a little while, for my own sake.
Une parenthèse après la course.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Aller vers l'inconnu
It is 7 am on Monday morning the 21st of January 2013. I am currently sitting in the sous-sol of my funny little ¨three story¨ studio next to the radiator and between the coin douche and the coin cuisine writing this furtively so as not to make noise. The wine baron is asleep on the bed above and I have slept like shit.
I was supposed to be stuck in Fontainebleau last night due to snow but after Mom of my girl kiddos ripped Dad of girls a new one, he made the crawl on un-ploughed snowy roads to get us to the train station two hours later than usual and I got to Paris last night a bit before eight. This meant I would actually get to say goodbye to my FWB before he leaves tonight around 18h out of the Gare de Lyon.
Nonetheless, I had called him yesterday before I knew I was coming home to tell him about possibly not making home and thinking about having to say goodbye to him again. I hate goodbyes. I then asked him about possibly coming down the weekend after my birthday, in about two weeks, to celebrate and come say goodbye to M and Y who are moving to Vancouver at the end of February.
¨We'll see,¨ he replied, gêné. ¨I'll have a fair amount of professional salons and things to take care of in the coming weeks, so I risk being busy that weekend.¨
¨I understand.¨
¨I'll know more in about a week or so,¨ he replied.
¨You'll keep me updated? I can always buy a ticket later.¨
¨Ok,¨ he said. We hung up.
I was supposed to be stuck in Fontainebleau last night due to snow but after Mom of my girl kiddos ripped Dad of girls a new one, he made the crawl on un-ploughed snowy roads to get us to the train station two hours later than usual and I got to Paris last night a bit before eight. This meant I would actually get to say goodbye to my FWB before he leaves tonight around 18h out of the Gare de Lyon.
Nonetheless, I had called him yesterday before I knew I was coming home to tell him about possibly not making home and thinking about having to say goodbye to him again. I hate goodbyes. I then asked him about possibly coming down the weekend after my birthday, in about two weeks, to celebrate and come say goodbye to M and Y who are moving to Vancouver at the end of February.
¨We'll see,¨ he replied, gêné. ¨I'll have a fair amount of professional salons and things to take care of in the coming weeks, so I risk being busy that weekend.¨
¨I understand.¨
¨I'll know more in about a week or so,¨ he replied.
¨You'll keep me updated? I can always buy a ticket later.¨
¨Ok,¨ he said. We hung up.
* * *
At about eleven last night as I was prepping my things for the week, the FWB returned from the Moulin Rouge with his family. He was surprised to see me. His phone had died and he hadn't gotten my text message about returning that night.
I tried to hug him but he awkwardly distanced himself as he packed his suitcases and explained that he'd be meeting up again with family at 9 am to go on a bateau mouche. We chatted but there was something in his expression that I know all too well: the illusory and million miles of emotional distance in between three feet of physical distance. I discern this like a hawk, I have been so well trained to pick up on it. Blame it all on my past dating scars, but I'm no dummy. I started picking up on it this entire past week. I know what it looks and feels like, I have the emotional acuity thin and fine enough to slice it like a jet moving at Mach three through the airspace.
If he needed to say something, I wasn't going to yank it out of him. I'd let him proceed.
At midnight we brushed out teeth and climbed into bed when he started listlessly and vaguely bantering about future projects and being sorry about not knowing if he'd be free my birthday weekend. I replied that given the way that my life is up in the air too, it's normal, I understand. That we are both in a place where the life equation is xy + z= 5, and how the hell are you supposed to solve that without a single solid variable. Puzzle me that one.
Then he put space between us and went quiet.
¨ Ça va?¨
¨Ouiiii,¨ he replied in his deep voice. I love it when men think you can't tell something is wrong. A silent pause.
¨Is there something bothering you?¨
He swallowed, and then he told me this: that he'd spent the whole week reflecting and thinking and that to be one hundred percent fair, he had to tell me that he just didn't think we should keep seeing one another. Not because of me--as he put it, I'm beautiful and funny and thoughtful and it really is quite dommage that he met me when he did, because he would love to invest in a relationship with me, but he can't give fifty percent to his career and fifty to a relationship.
¨If I had met you when I had my career established and my vineyards, it would be different. I could give you the attention and the time you deserve, but right now I can't consecrate that to you. You deserve someone who can.¨
I had told him that to be honest on my part, I didn't care, because I don't want to see anyone else but him. Which is the honest to God truth. I will spend my time here in Paris with mindless people on mindless dates when all I want is to see him, even with the distance. He replied that even so, he'd prefer to stop on good terms because he didn't want to get to a point where he could only see me every once in a while and have that upset me. But he answered that he thought it best to stop now, so things don't get messy and we end on bad terms.
¨ I figured out that you were pretty attached,¨ he swallowed. ¨And I don't want to hurt you.¨
And you weren't at all attached? And you felt nothing? I wanted to scream. You cannot tell me you felt absolutely nothing given the way you treated me.
¨ I figured out that you were pretty attached,¨ he swallowed. ¨And I don't want to hurt you.¨
And you weren't at all attached? And you felt nothing? I wanted to scream. You cannot tell me you felt absolutely nothing given the way you treated me.
But I told him I am not apt to anger and that I understand, because I do.
Timing sucks. Timing sucks so badly. I have been cosmic haha'd once again. For once in my life I found someone I feel so compatible with and here the universe has to rip him right out of my hands again. I could deal with it once before I barely knew him but to do it again is cruel. I have the distinct impression that if we were just a bit more settled and just a bit older we could actually give this a shot and now my worst case scenario feels like it's arrived: I won't even get a shot at seeing what this could be, and the death of the unknown possibility, of the potential of it all, and that is what is most devastating to me.
¨ Can I at least say hello to your parents tomorrow?¨ I asked.
¨ Of course,¨ he answered. ¨ We can grab lunch after the bateau mouche or something.¨
This has been my only request. I have two others of him, which I will not make just yet:
1. The he read the copy of the Alchemist I gave him, once and for all.
2. That for my birthday he send me the files of the photos he took of the two of us at Les Baux de Provence. So I have some sort of proof that this happened and I didn't dream it all.
Had he left my place last night, I would've slipped on my running shoes for a freezing as hell jaunt through the snow to beat everything I felt and feel--the sadness, the confusion, the slight anger at the universe--into the frozen Parisian pavement. I would've taken this laptop and slipped down into my little living room and written this all out hours ago.
Instead I tossed and turned with him separated as far as he could be from me on the mattress, curled in the other direction, and lie torturously awake with eyes wide open until the coffee I'd had at nine pm wore out enough for me to sleep. I stared off blankly and let a few silent tear drops down my cheeks in the dark.
Then somehow I drifted off until 630 am when I said to hell with it and made another coffee and am now nicely caffeinated and writing this swan song as I head towards a whole lot of unknown's.
Do not forget me, is all I could think. Wondering if this is really, once and for all, goodbye.
And if he lets me I'll go with him to the train station tonight, give him a hug, and say goodbye. Maybe for good. That is what breaks my heart.
Do not forget me.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Où mon coeur me pousse?
To say that life has been a whirlwind recently is an understatement. I feel like I've been strapped into the cockpit of a race car in the Indy 500 these past few weeks. Immediately after getting back from a round of nanny duty, as I've stated, my FWB arrived in town and has been here for nearly two weeks ever since. Life has been turbulent ever since: boyfriend, finals, stress, work, lots of major life decisions. I can't even begin to sort them out. If feel so in over my head right now, and so overwhelmed.
This is not to say it has not been WONDERFUL having the FWB here. This is the longest stretch of time I have had him in my presence and the more I'm around him, the more I learn about him and the more I like him and feel a real complicity with him. He does the dishes and teases me by throwing wine corks from the bottles he opens at dinner at me, he gives me hugs and we talk about everything and everything. There are no awkward pauses and even in the silence there is comfort.
But I feel like we're also skirting around the same subject. He's brought up my past relationships and we've chatted about our pasts while drifting off to sleep holding hands. He is a radiator! I curl beside him and turn the space heaters off at night or else I have to kick off the comforter. He, like me, I have discovered, had his first real love in his late teens, but then he took off for New Zealand and that ended. Like me, he dated casually through the rest of his twenties. And voilà, we're here.
I am stressed because I also have a sudden job offer working for an American luxury goods company here in Paris, but it would be a huge salary cut from my nanny job and it would lock me into France until February 2014. Combine this with possibly considering wanting to be wherever FWB is and intense doubt about my future and I am a train wreck. He know about my interviews because he's been here and I've discussed it all with him just in terms of what it would mean about quitting my nanny job ( which LORD, I would love to do right now) but I do not know if I can swing it financially. I'd be dropping from 1600 EURO a month to 1500 USD, which in Paris is no small deal. I'd have more freedom to go and see him, but possibly risk not being able to pay debts back home, let alone rent in this city. Oh who the HELL knows anymore? I certainly do not and I want to rip my hair out.
The other problem is that I do not know how to bring up the subject of U-S and the US of A with the FWB. It's still early, oh so early, to talk about being serious. This is not, again, to say that I do not want to be serious with him. I admit that I do. I would not have gone to the mat in December about U-S if I did not think I could have a relationship with him. At the same time, I am extremely wary of making decisions based soley on a guy. He'll know about the VIE and NYC soon, but is rather, this week, of the mentality that if he doesn't get a VIE he'll ¨find other things to do here¨ in the meanwhile. And then I got more of the longterm plan out of him Wednesday.
We were eating dinner at my place when I told him we should celebrate his last set of exams EVER when he laughed and replied ¨Oh, maybe not ever;¨ and then explained to me he'd like to do an MBA later on somewhere in North America, perhaps in Canada at McGill. Either way, it looks like he wants to end up in North America for a chunk of his life.
He's been a little less touchy-feely this week and it has me worried that he's losing interest and less invested than I am...that he's a bit afraid of getting too close to me. Sometimes I see it in his humor, in the way he vaguely answers certain questions, or the use of titles. I was at an end of class wine mixer with him and his classmates on Tuesday evening when I met a friend of his, C, and C's Canadian girlfriend, S, (what is it with these French-North American couples? anyway...) but I adored them both and S and I hit it off right away. She's a runner and we both rock out to Céline Dion and are fully bilingual and make pancakes. I'm looking forward to hanging out with her! Her boyfriend, C, is in Switzerland and she's in Paris, so they do distance, but they TOO met right before C took off for a year to do this insane travel master. I suggested she and I start a club of Significant Other's Met Before the OIV MSc in Wine Management. We both laughed. But to her and C my FWB presented me as the GF and to others just a friend. I was so confused.
But then when we're alone, FWB clearly talks about how we are together.
GAH CAN MY BRAIN JUST SHUT UP AND RELAX AND GO WITH IT ALL?
I feel so vulnerable. I'm sure he feels just as vulnerable too, which is maybe why he's backed off a little this week, combined with stress from exams and knowing he'll leave Paris on Monday night. His family arrives Saturday morning while I'll be stuck in Fontain-effing-bleau (FML) but I'll see them on Monday during the day before they all, FWB included, leave on Monday night.
Then I do not know when I'll see him again. I'm tempted to go down on the first of February, my birthday weekend, seeing as I turn 25 on the 31st of this month. Speaking of which...HOW THE HELL AM I HALFWAY THROUGH MY TWENTIES ALREADY!? Mother effer!
I am going to go insane this year with all that is on my plate, I do not know if I can handle it all. Stress stress stress stress stress. It's like all the pieces of the puzzle are continuously changing shape so I can never put the puzzle together.
At first I had one ¨definite¨ this fall, which was that I wanted to stay here. It was the only thing I knew. Now I'm beginning to wonder if my one definite is that I want to keep my FWB, but I can't say yet what the stakes of that would be and if I'm willing to risk those stakes. I'm afraid of that, quite honestly. And I'd need to talk to him about it, but I need to not cross that bridge until I get there and just calm down and see where this goes, which for me, the obsessional planner, is hard. I suppose this is my karmic lesson. But I know I'd risk scaring him away, which is not what I want to do. So I'm going to have to sit back and breathe. Ok, just breathe. In and out and in and out. Breathe.
So, to sum it all up, the set of decisions that will need to be made in this complicated year of 2013 are the following:
1. France or the US?
2. Work or Masters in Interpretation?
3. Just how serious is this relationship with the FWB and where is it potentially going?
4. Just WTF am I doing with my life?
5. Also....AM I OUT OF MY FREAKIN' MIND? I feel like it.
Où est-ce que mon coeur me pousse?
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
The Baron is Baaaaack
I finished up hellacious nanny duty in Fontainebleau on Sunday the 6th, which also happened to be the evening of the arrival of my FWB. For two whole weeks. LIKE HOLY COW this is better than Christmas! This is like the best present ever. I feel like a little kid! He's staying with me in Paris, which makes me happy because I get company for dinner (I enjoy feeding him, let's not lie, I like cooking, he likes pairing with wine, it works for us) and cuddling. In a way it makes me feel like we're an old married couple, but I don't mind.
(On a side note, I am beginning to feel like one of those air headed chicks who just gushes about a dude nonstop. But I digress. This one is worth the gushing.)
He started up his last series of seminars before he finishes his Master on Monday morning, which was also when he turned in his thesis, which he'll defend this weekend....he did a synthesis of market studies of Rhône valley wines in the USA. Crossing my fingers for him.
In the meanwhile, he is still job hunting in the States and I'm using every network I can to help him. Speaking of which, if any of you in my readership have connections in the wine industry in the states, particularly in sales and imports, please feel VERY INCLINED to message me.
On Sunday night he sat behind me with his arms around my waist as I read his thesis and jokingly told him about how my mom had asked me if I was ready to come home yet.
¨Well...are you?,¨ he asked.
¨That depends on the circumstances,¨ I replied. Are we beating around the same bush here?
¨ I see.¨ He planted kisses on my forehead and neck and cheeks. I am beyond spoiled to death by his cuddling. I get cuddling most women dream about. I get completely grizzly bear encased as I fall asleep with his head in the crook of my shoulder and kisses on my nape under my hair, arm around my waist to pull me close. I get told to put my head on his shoulder! I have come to realize just how protective he is; I was standing on a stool to turn off a light in my studio or scampering up and down the stairs to the mezzanined bed and he would freak out for a second and tell me not to fall and get ready to catch me in case I did. I laughed it off and told him these are things I do all the time, all alone, by myself, and that I've never fallen. It still doesn't stop him from telling me to be careful.
All I know for now is this: nothing has ever felt more real or more right. Am I going to risk the possibility of having my heart broken? Yes. Am I sure this will amount to anything? Right now, no. Would I like it to? Yes. Will fate cooperate to an extent? I'm not sure. All I can go off right now is my gut and my gut is screaming its head off, as if there were a five alarm fire in my heart.
We went to dinner last night with the majority of his Masters promotion, so I got to meet a lot of the people he spent 11 months escapading around the globe with. It was loads of fun and we had amazing food at this restaurant in the 8th called Pascade. Obviously, there was lots of wine, and I learned a tonnnnn about wine and proper wine glasses and the art of tasting. But what I loved most was our walk home from near the Place Vendôme to my studio in the 7th. We passed the Louvre and saw all the holiday lights still up and alternately held hands and walked with our arms around one another.
Je suis la tienne.
Not half bad for a young man who disappeared for a year and then freaked out in November about dating me....
On verra.
(On a side note, I am beginning to feel like one of those air headed chicks who just gushes about a dude nonstop. But I digress. This one is worth the gushing.)
He started up his last series of seminars before he finishes his Master on Monday morning, which was also when he turned in his thesis, which he'll defend this weekend....he did a synthesis of market studies of Rhône valley wines in the USA. Crossing my fingers for him.
In the meanwhile, he is still job hunting in the States and I'm using every network I can to help him. Speaking of which, if any of you in my readership have connections in the wine industry in the states, particularly in sales and imports, please feel VERY INCLINED to message me.
On Sunday night he sat behind me with his arms around my waist as I read his thesis and jokingly told him about how my mom had asked me if I was ready to come home yet.
¨Well...are you?,¨ he asked.
¨That depends on the circumstances,¨ I replied. Are we beating around the same bush here?
¨ I see.¨ He planted kisses on my forehead and neck and cheeks. I am beyond spoiled to death by his cuddling. I get cuddling most women dream about. I get completely grizzly bear encased as I fall asleep with his head in the crook of my shoulder and kisses on my nape under my hair, arm around my waist to pull me close. I get told to put my head on his shoulder! I have come to realize just how protective he is; I was standing on a stool to turn off a light in my studio or scampering up and down the stairs to the mezzanined bed and he would freak out for a second and tell me not to fall and get ready to catch me in case I did. I laughed it off and told him these are things I do all the time, all alone, by myself, and that I've never fallen. It still doesn't stop him from telling me to be careful.
All I know for now is this: nothing has ever felt more real or more right. Am I going to risk the possibility of having my heart broken? Yes. Am I sure this will amount to anything? Right now, no. Would I like it to? Yes. Will fate cooperate to an extent? I'm not sure. All I can go off right now is my gut and my gut is screaming its head off, as if there were a five alarm fire in my heart.
We went to dinner last night with the majority of his Masters promotion, so I got to meet a lot of the people he spent 11 months escapading around the globe with. It was loads of fun and we had amazing food at this restaurant in the 8th called Pascade. Obviously, there was lots of wine, and I learned a tonnnnn about wine and proper wine glasses and the art of tasting. But what I loved most was our walk home from near the Place Vendôme to my studio in the 7th. We passed the Louvre and saw all the holiday lights still up and alternately held hands and walked with our arms around one another.
Je suis la tienne.
Not half bad for a young man who disappeared for a year and then freaked out in November about dating me....
On verra.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Bonne Année...or...SWEET BABY JESUS IT IS 2013!
And now back to our regularly scheduled program...or not! I've been MIA since Saturday the 29th, mostly because I reported that evening for one more week of insane nanny duty and shipped out to Fontainebleau with girl kiddos that evening. Which means, of course, that I am spending time here, as per professional obligation, until January 6th. That also means I did not get to have a normal New Year's Eve as a young twenty something should have, but instead I spent mine playing mommy.
I got my Christmas, I got my Christmas, I had my WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS down South...
I'm sorry if my whining about my job is bothering you all...I realize I have a lot to be grateful for: a decent income as a student to support myself, a roof over my head, food on my plate. 18 months into this game though and I am worn out.
Just two more rounds of crazy vacation, get me to June, get me my Masters and a naturalization dossier and a way to stay in France and we are GOOD TO GOOOO!
That said, I texted my FWB yesterday to say Happy New Year. The NY is a BIGGGG EFFING DEAL in this country. Normally you call your loved ones at midnight, but seeing as I barely had time to skype my own family, I opted for the day after. His response? (I ADORE this Frenchman like none other):
¨Happy New Year to you too!!! Health, happiness, success, and above all French nationality! :-P Bisous :-*¨
¨Haha, did you have a good evening? As for the nationality, that depends. I can't wait to see you! Bisous :-*¨
¨ Gourmet dinner with Y and M...I don't eat for three days anymore :) See you Sunday!¨ with an added ¨ :-*¨
¨ :-D so I won't buy you any Beaufort?¨ (his favorite cheese).
¨Hmm...I'll let you see about that :-* ¨
In other words, I am literally just hanging on to my sanity until he arrives in Paris for two weeks on Sunday because a) I cannot wait to see him again and b) it will be the longest I've ever had him in one damn spot with me since I met him. I am giddy about that, so damn giddy.
But alas all is up in the air. So up in the air. He should know soon about opportunities in NYC and I would be lying if I said I wouldn't consider the possibility of going there with him if we got that serious and/or we discussed it. That's a big life decision and not something I take lightly, but if I am eventually going to be forced to repatriate (which I still do not know, it depends on job offers and schooling offers and OH MY GOD my brain just wants to explode with how overwhelmed it is about all of these decisions) why not go where he might be going? Don't panic, alas, readership...I'm not one to throw in the kit and caboodle and sacrifice everything for a dude, but I wouldn't even be tentatively imagining this if I didn't think he could be worth it.
But as the motto for SWEET BABY JESUS 2013 GOES: who the HELL knows!?
P.S. Somehow I forgot it is the season of LA GALETTE DES ROIS! (King's Cake). OH MY GOODNESS I LOVE this pastry and this country! YES!
Bonne année tout le monde!
I got my Christmas, I got my Christmas, I had my WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS down South...
I'm sorry if my whining about my job is bothering you all...I realize I have a lot to be grateful for: a decent income as a student to support myself, a roof over my head, food on my plate. 18 months into this game though and I am worn out.
Just two more rounds of crazy vacation, get me to June, get me my Masters and a naturalization dossier and a way to stay in France and we are GOOD TO GOOOO!
That said, I texted my FWB yesterday to say Happy New Year. The NY is a BIGGGG EFFING DEAL in this country. Normally you call your loved ones at midnight, but seeing as I barely had time to skype my own family, I opted for the day after. His response? (I ADORE this Frenchman like none other):
¨Happy New Year to you too!!! Health, happiness, success, and above all French nationality! :-P Bisous :-*¨
¨Haha, did you have a good evening? As for the nationality, that depends. I can't wait to see you! Bisous :-*¨
¨ Gourmet dinner with Y and M...I don't eat for three days anymore :) See you Sunday!¨ with an added ¨ :-*¨
¨ :-D so I won't buy you any Beaufort?¨ (his favorite cheese).
¨Hmm...I'll let you see about that :-* ¨
In other words, I am literally just hanging on to my sanity until he arrives in Paris for two weeks on Sunday because a) I cannot wait to see him again and b) it will be the longest I've ever had him in one damn spot with me since I met him. I am giddy about that, so damn giddy.
But alas all is up in the air. So up in the air. He should know soon about opportunities in NYC and I would be lying if I said I wouldn't consider the possibility of going there with him if we got that serious and/or we discussed it. That's a big life decision and not something I take lightly, but if I am eventually going to be forced to repatriate (which I still do not know, it depends on job offers and schooling offers and OH MY GOD my brain just wants to explode with how overwhelmed it is about all of these decisions) why not go where he might be going? Don't panic, alas, readership...I'm not one to throw in the kit and caboodle and sacrifice everything for a dude, but I wouldn't even be tentatively imagining this if I didn't think he could be worth it.
But as the motto for SWEET BABY JESUS 2013 GOES: who the HELL knows!?
P.S. Somehow I forgot it is the season of LA GALETTE DES ROIS! (King's Cake). OH MY GOODNESS I LOVE this pastry and this country! YES!
Bonne année tout le monde!
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