Autumn is upon us and the changes are coming forward faster than I thought they would. August was only a mere few days ago but September's dominance is a presence that can't be ignored. Summer is officially over. The leaves are already starting to fall, the air is cooler, the summer bugs are losing their luster and it's time for me to go back to Paris. It's funny how it happens in a matter of days; autumn has a way of creeping up on us where everything suddenly seems to be so different.
Phil is back in Paris and filled me in on the town gossip. Paris is Payton Place where there are no secrets and everything is revealed after a few drinks at La Pearl. This is what came out last night...
Monsieur Flâneur is selling his restaurant and is moving to Dijon with his special someone. Exhale. It's official, Monsieur Flâneur is truly a loser. The morning of my birthday, because of the 6 hour ahead time difference, I woke up to several e-mails from my dear friends in France sending me birthday wishes, not excluding MF saying: "You met someone else before I did. Good for you. I am alone and you have moved on. It's funny that your apartment is trashed. LOL." No reference to my birthday (not to mention the offensive 'LOL') but just some snarky e-mail about Sébastien and almost accusing me of leaving him alone when he is in fact seeing someone and sent me that bullshit e-mail for no reason. I can't help but think 'poor girl', he is volunteering to his ex-fiancée that he is single and lonely while she's thinking that she met this great guy (she's me; 2 years ago). Mademoiselle, Good luck with him. He's quite a handful.
I took a breath, a sip of coffee and looked at my flowers from Sébastien and said to myself "30 is about forgetting about Mr. Wrong and focusing on the man who sends you flowers, not the piece of shit who pretends that he doesn't know it's your birthday and keeps his current girlfriend a secret." In my 20's, I would have fooled myself into thinking the guy who was treating me like dirt was 'the one' because the chase would have tainted my perception but now I'm 30 and know better. I refuse to end up alone at 36 because I let n'importe qui jerk me around. The tit for tat can last for years and I'm in no position to become a victim to complete poppycock.
Phil also told me that the witchy American girls are leaving Paris for good because one couldn't find a man and the other couldn't find a man or a job. If they had better attitudes, were nicer people, took the time to learn the language and didn't force their 'Americaness' on natives, they may have had better luck in Europe's toughest town. Bon débarras!
Today is about excepting change, growing and learning from old mistakes, looking to the future with new friends, a new love and finally kicking MF to the curb where he belongs. Good luck in Dijon.
