I'm finally getting comfortable with my flat and recently just started sleeping at home alone again. I reserved an entire day to disinfect and to deep clean where I moved all the furniture, conditioned the rug, pulled out the vacuum and got in all the nooks and crannies of my humble abode that was abused by a pute. Upon cleaning, I discovered rolling papers, condom wrappers, empty water bottles, a helmet and more of my clothes crumbled up and stuffed in corners. My favorite part of Katie's e-mails have been when she claims that she left my apartment exactly the way I did. Is this girl out of her mind? I certainly did not leave it in squalor with trails of debauchery and madness, you crazy broad.
Throughout this whole sublet brouhaha Sébastien has been amazing. Monsieur Flâneur would have yelled at me, told me it was all my fault (perhaps), that I have too many articles of clothing (partially true) and would blow off my feelings calling them dramatic and irrational (what a jerk). Sébastien on the other hand was calm, helpful and looked for solutions not added more to my problems with annoying side comments. Why was I engaged to MF again? The more time that passes where I am able to see the relationship from a distance, the more I realize what a jerk he was and how I had the patience of a saint. Bon débarras is all I can say.
With my sparkling clean apartment and to say thank you for being so amazing, I invited Sébastien over for dinner. Arriving promptly at 7pm, he was welcomed with a plate of smoked salmon accompanied by yogurt dill sauce, a bowl of Terra chips and a chilled bottle of champagne for a little pre-dinner apéro. Dinner was a simple herb marinated chicken breast, lemon honey glazed carrots, rosemary roasted potatoes, a bottle of Bourgogne, a warm baguette that we enjoyed to the soundtrack of my new favorite TSF Jazz station.
We ended up staying up until 1 in the morning talking, laughing and playing our favorite game of English and French slang hangman where we teach each other obsolete expressions in our native languages. The hit of the night was chanméwhich roughly translates to "that's off the hook", a truly ridiculous expression in both languages. We finished the bottle of wine, were delightfully toasted and collapsed into bed by 2am. My relationship with him is easy. He let's me focus on my life and what I need to do and doesn't smother me, overwhelm me or make me feel anxious and stressed. That's what my life with MF was like; difficult. I'm too old for difficult, life is hard enough.
