It should be noted here that I celebrate the anniversary of my 39th birthday and already we're in double digits. It's not like I had a party anyway to celebrate this year, so if there is no party the birthday shouldn't count.
I had an indecent proposal yesterday by a lovely German chap who took me to an excellent, lovely and so delicious it was nearly scandalous lunch yesterday. The meal itself took place at Gaya on Rue Bac, and it really was a brilliant fete. Ambiance, a perfect 10, presentation, service, flavours, composition were all off the charts. The waiter even knew how to properly assist me with my coat, and he was under the age of 30.
Were it not for one small niggling little detail, notwithstanding the indecent proposal, the meal would have been sheer perfection. Ok, there were two things, but the main issue of contention was the silverware. I've seen the style before. It's flat, short tines on the fork, shallow spoon and horrifically balanced knives. I know it's supposed to be modern and trendy and fashionable, but if I can't get my food to balance on my fork, then it's not working. There are worse things in life, but in that moment I felt like a clumsy fool and I don't like feeling like a clumsy fool in a posh restaurant with my silverware clattering and bouncing all over the place. I would far rather attract attention in more subtle manner, such as a glimpse of my magnificent cleavage.
So whilst the waiter knew how to assist me with my coat, on and off (shame he was so young, and a waiter) .... my date for the fete was not quite so gallant. He had met me at the house wherein lies my Very Teeny Apartment at my suggestion, as I do like intimidating people with the armed guards posted just outside the door. Perhaps it was the sight of all those armed guards, but after our hasty greeting, he dashed off down the street with me trailing behind in a cloud of cobblestones and dust. I had to insist several times that I don't walk quickly, rushing off after him as we are trying to get acquainted with him muttering softly into the wind in front. Kandinsky was invoked, I couldn't hear a thing he was saying and I missed it. I felt a bit like I was wearing a burka and chasing my husband down the street actually. Not pleasant.
He ordered for me appropriately, and it didn't matter what I was eating off that menu, I knew it was all bound to be all right, so that was fine. I like my date to order for me, it's only appropriate. Conversation was of course, all about him. One of the things I hate about being 39 is that I have to wear my reading glasses to see my food. I was wrestling with the sardines starter trying to see if there were any bits I needed to set aside, and finally just gave up and ate the whole thing. It was fine of course. But reading glasses to eat? It's not right. It's not fair either.
Lunch continued with my German extolling the virtues of French traditions, particularly the ones involving mistresses. He subtly revealed that he has a partner of some 15 years and a 2 year old daughter. I always come in late to the game, else I would have revealed that a mistress needs to be properly kept, including an apartment and monthly allowance. Given his stress over the size of the bill at lunch's end, I'm not so sure he's up to that challenge.
He was very pleasant and conversation was quite nice, but again, the gallantry thing left me dry. We were seated upstairs and upon leaving I insisted that he go in front of me down the stairs so that if I fell down, I could land on top of him. He rushed ahead so I couldn't even use his shoulder, and didn't hear me ask for his hand for the last several stairs which had no rail to cling to. I hate that.
And whilst we were going down the street, he didn't offer me his arm and when I did grab it, had no clue how to hold it. Clearly not a fellow used to having a delicate damsel dangling on his arm. How on earth does a man of such culture and accomplishment thus far advanced in life have no clue about how to treat a lady properly? G has always been perfect in these matters... flawless, effortless. Doors, coats, scarves, panties. Off and on, open and closed, arm proferred, hand extended, chairs out and in, ordered for, pampered and properly attended to.
Over lunch I related a story about a recent encounter I had in the Metro and he was rather impressed. I was riding the line 8 to Assemblie Nationale around 10:30 in the evening. There were very few of us on the train. There was a young woman buried in a book, and another non-descript man wearing casual clothes, late 40's or so, carrying a grocery sack. He watched her for a few moments, then sat across staring intently at her while she was either blissfully unaware or studiously ignoring him. And when I say stared, he leaned right into her, just a few inches away. At the next stop he then leapt up and quickly went into the next train car, riding there until I got up and exited the train. He got out and loitered on the platform until I passed him, then fell in behind me. The platform was empty but for me and the creepy guy and he was speeding up to me. I strode along and looked over my shoulder at him, catching him right in the eye and loudly said 'do you want to die now?' He stopped dead in his tracks while I kept rolling up the stairs and out the door, very, very happy that I got away with that one. It's always worrisome to call the bluff on creeps but so far, knock wood, I've always pulled it off. Having a very loud, very big voice helps. Thanks mom for 12 years of opera lessons.
It's entirely possible that all of his actions were entirely innocent and that he thought I was going to mug him... but I wasn't the one acting creepy.
It's entirely possible that all of his actions were entirely innocent and that he thought I was going to mug him... but I wasn't the one acting creepy.
Day 3 of no smoking, money saved so far, 20.70 euros.
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