The Parisian Date

Upon arrival at Paris’ Charles de Gaulle airport it always strikes me as bizarre that the normally very sophisticated Frenchmen allows its visitors to be greeted by one of the shabbiest and brassy capital airports in Europe. However, thinking about my imminent tête-à-tête with the lovely K I soon forget the sad excuse for an international airport and leave the tackiness of the airport behind me.

Having done my homework, I already now that the lovely K and I are staying in the same hotel, and upon my arrival I cross the consigner’s palm with enough euros to have him arrange that flowers and a personal note are brought to the Lovely K’s room before her arrival.

Friday night is the big night and I’ve arranged it so K will meet me on a street corner not far from the opera.
K arrives on looks like a dream, kissing her I have to fight the urge to go straight back to the hotel and share a passionate night of intimacy.
My favorite restaurant in Paris looks like it hasn’t changed since the 40s. The small downstairs reception area and bistro is bustling and the shouting of the locals blended with the faint murmur of the tourists combined with a traditional French menu makes it the perfect setting for a romantic date.

After dinner we stroll down the quaint narrow street outside the restaurant, talking, kissing, enjoying being together and both having that wonderful feeling of anticipation.
We’re now trying to get back to the hotel. It’s far to walk and we start to look for a taxi as we slowly saunter in the general direction of the hotel savoring the sounds and smells of the Parisian summer night. I suddenly realize that walking along the boulevards of Paris K and I are for the first time engaging in a real conversation about real things. Before, at the restaurant, we talked mostly shop interrupted only be sporadic flirtatious remarks and stolen kisses. But now it’s different. K talk about her childhood in Israel, how her family moved to the UK and how they struggled to get accepted in their new home. I talk about my childhood and about growing up in the comfort of a typical family. My story is totally different from hers but somehow we’re both able to relate and to understand.

Two hours later arriving at the hotel having walked all the way I find myself thinking about K in a different and more profound way. Before our little promenade I was entranced and captivated by her femininity and perfect beauty but post-walk I feel connected on a deeper level and see the sketchy outlines of a very interesting and wonderfully challenging person.

The sex was good and made in heaven, but the real treasure was found during a slow paced stroll through empty city streets and busy boulevards and the most exciting penetration was not one of the flesh but one of the mind.

Back in rotten Denmark sitting in my new flat looking out on the rain, body still sore from the week-end’s horizontal activities I feel that a fragile seed has been planted and that there’s now a whole new universe for me to discover.

Am I in love? Probably not. But I’m definitely in a very different place than I was before my Parisian date.


JB