What a chilly and gloomy Saturday it was today here in Paris. For the first time of the season, I had to turn my expensive heat up to maximum, wrap myself up in an oversized knit scarf and keep a constant kettle of violette-rose tea on the burner in order to stay cozy and warm. Fucking Brrr.
Just as I was about to settle in with another episode of Hot in Cincinnati, I received a text message from Eric or as Séb calls him; "Uncle Richie" who was having lunch at La Perle and invited me to join him. Mais bien sûr! I just love Eric. I quickly threw on jeans, kept my house sweater on and grabbed my glasses that as I'm getting older am realizing that I'm needing them for more than just reading. Mince...
I arrived at La Perle minutes later to find Eric sitting at the bar with a glass of wine for him and one waiting for me. The story with Eric is that I met him when I first moved to Paris back when my uncle was coming often for business and Eric was the driver provided by my uncle's company to take him to his meetings and dinners. Jumping at any opportunity to abandon my watered-down soup in the box for nice dinners in the 8th, Eric used to pick me up at my teeny-apartment at La Motte-Picquet to meet my uncle where I'd feel fancy for the evening. Since Eric is a professional driver, he passes my often office where when I've had enough of being accusing of being a shitty photocopier, I'd sneak away to meet him at the corner brasserie for a quick coffee. He used to come around more in the spring during heavy tourist season and unfortunately for him, during the crux of my heartbreak where he'd console me because I couldn't hold back my tears. I never believed him when he told me that everything was going to work out just fine. He was right.
The corner brasserie has now become an after-work staple for me to go to where I have a glass of wine or noisette with my book before descending on to the packed métro during rush hour. Due to the fact that the neighborhood where I work is very commercial, the cafe is empty by 6:30 pm, leaving just me and the owner, Sylvie in the quiet restaurant. Over time, Sylvie and I started talking to one another where I eventually opened up about my story. She always stayed quiet and listened during this part of our conversation.
After months of going to what I now call chez Sylvie, she finally gave me her opinion about my situation. She told me that it wouldn't have worked between me and my ex because he was already married and thought that I should find someone who was available. Excuse me? My ex was already married? How did she know MF? Was this where he met up with his secret wife? Wait, what? Back up!
Then it hit me, oh mon Dieu. This entire time she thought that I was having an affair with Eric! Oh my god. No, no, no! She thought that he was consoling me in the café over the fact that he was married and that we couldn't be together! No! No! No! I'm not that girl! I had to explain that Eric and I are certainly not having an affair, that I was crying over my ex and current state of my life and that I have in fact met his wife several times who is quite lovely. This is how rumors are started!
Eric has become a friend of mine here in Paris and don't see him as often as I'd like but when I do, it's special. After our lunch at La Perle, we walked over to the Pompidou to check out the Edvard Munch exhibit and couldn't help but laugh because we got stuck behind tourists who took photos of each piece. The last time I saw Eric, I told him that I thought I'd be leaving Paris for good because I thought it would be best for me and perhaps one day I would return to The City of Light. Fast-forward nine months later and I'm still here, I'm like Cher - I never go away. As we we were standing on the top of the Pompidou center looking out to a foggy and cloudy view of Paris, he turned to me and said, "I knew you weren't going to quit Paris. This is the real love of your life." Again, he was right. It's going to take a little more then some bad luck, failed friendships and relationships to leave the real reason why I came here; my love for Paris.
