I'm going to be honest. As much as I was madly in love with my ex-finacé and fancied no other man but him, I found myself wondering from time to time if he was going to be the last man I will ever be with. 'Does this mean I can't sleep with François anymore?' I'd ask myself, sometimes out loud. François, the sexy young thing that I was briefly dating before I met Monsieur Flâneur. My love for my MF exceeded my lust for François but now that I am single and heard he was back in Paris after studying abroad in Zurich (I told you he was young.) maybe its time to give old Franky a call. Miam! Miam!
François is tall. Very tall. With dark hair, mysterious eyes, olive tone skin and a well-crafted gorgeous face. On top of his adonis good looks, he is kind and soft spoken. We never really 'clicked' on a emotional level, never laughed at the same jokes or had anything at all in common which left our dates to consist of dinner. And then breakfast then following morning. He did know how to prepare a nice continental spread. Really.
François must have known that MF and I were no longer thanks to the obnoxiously over-informative facebook. (Lesson learned: Do not change relationship status until married with grandchildren; and even then, you never know.)I was a bit reluctant to e-mail him but after a vodka fizzy, I decided to just do it. We didn't end on a bad note, he went away and I met someone else. We may have even still been hanging out had he not gone abroad. Doubtful.
I shot François a quick email just to say hello and a proposal to get an after work after drink sometime. Send! Nothing fancy, just to the point. Maybe we'll get that drink (en plus), maybe we won't but at least I'm attempting to get back out there. I feel like Bill Murray in 'What About Bob?' "Baby steps, baby steps.." Today is about channeling my inner Brigitte Bardot and knowing that I still have 'it'. Purr.
