It was a cozy Tuesday night, I had just gotten back from the gym and was running a bath. My plan was to catch up on some old emails, make some transcontinental phone calls and to do website market research for my new project that I am managing. The obnoxious text message ring on my phone went off as I was standing naked in my kitchen, it from Phil. "Hey, I'm going to get a drink over by Bastille. Join me!" After a long day at work and going to the gym straight after, a drink sounded fantastic but decided to just stay in and do what I had set myself out to do. I had the remainder of a bottle of wine that would give me a little more than a glass and some salmon that I was going to grill up after I washed the sweat that was dripping off me. My night was set.
A few hours had passed, dinner was digesting and I was nursing my glass of wine while perusing the internet for research when my text ring went off again. It was Phil, this time he was at La Pearl, a bar that is around the corner from my flat; enticing me with a drink. Ok, Ok, I thought why not? I could head down stairs for a break. I was just going to run out with no make-up and Monsieur Flâneur's soft American Apparel t-shirt that I swiped in the "settlement" but thought better of it. During a time of a break-up, you must leave the house effortlessly fierce and fabulous at all times. With that said, I put on a coat of my secret beauty weapon Dior Show Mascara, swept Laura Mercier bronzer over my cheeks, added a dab of Rosebud lip balm and floofed my mound of hair. I changed out MF's t-shirt for a fitted deep-v t-shirt, skinny jeans, a satchel and I was off and looking quite good, I must admit.
When I got to the bar, Phil was in rare form. He was celebrating an important meeting that had gone well with the opposing business school that is trying to woe him into joining their faculty. In other words, he was drunk. He ordered me a glass of Côtes du Rhône and we tchin-tchin'd to my 30 Days of renewal and his meetings. One glass turned into two and we were laughing and gossiping. I was glad I came out, the music was good, our favorite bartenders were there and upon turning around so was Monsieur Flaneur. And we were face to face. Good thing I changed out of his t-shirt. That would have just been creepy.
He had just walked in with his brother and some friends for an after work drink. We stood there almost in a daze, smiling at each other. And in typical Phil fashion, he said big hellos and ordered them a round. I guess I was hanging out with MF tonight, I thought to myself. Cheers.
This was bound to happen at some point but I had wanted just a little more time to pass to exude evolution. Everyone else wanted to avoid a potential uncomfortable situation and kept spirits high with laughing and small talk. MF kept wanting to stand closer to me but I preferred talking to his brother and his friends, I didn't have much to say to MF, I wasn't ready. I had stepped outside for a second and he followed. "Tell me everything you've been up to, Stop playing your game!" he demanded as he lit his cigarette. "I'm not playing anything." I told him and it was the true. I then briefly filled him on my life. I had then asked him what he had been up to in regards to any new changes he has made in his life, considering that that was the driving force behind his decision to end things, I was expecting him to say that he has being moving mountains and changing the world. His surprising answer was "Nothing has changed. I hate my life." I took a swig of my wine. How lovely.
After resisting from the initial shock of us seeing each other, I foolishly let my guard down and it was as if no time had passed. We were laughing, joking about songs we love to hate and catching up on funny stories.
Time was passing and before I knew it, it was just MF and I as the bar patrons were slowly filtering out and our company had long gone. Looking at the time, and the desolate bar, I told him that I was ready to call it night and was going to head home. He wanted to walk me to my door but since were going in opposite directions, I didn't think it was necessary. After the third time of his insisting, I finally said ok and we walked together down the motionless Paris street in silence. We got to my door and stood there, once again staring at each other. I didn't want to say goodbye and against my better judgement, offered him a cup of coffee. Upstairs. Apparently he didn't want to say goodbye either and had accepted my invite.
Unlike the last time he was over, he walked into to a lived-in, tidy apartment with touches of me everywhere. I put the coffee on, he played some music and we fell into being 'us'. Our chemistry will never fade. We are two people that truly get along quite nicely with each other which was always our strength.
Three hours later, I woke up in my bed, fully clothed, on top of the covers with MF curled up and snoring on my shoulder. We had passed out while talking. How did this happen? This wasn't part of the fierce and fabulous plan. Fuck! Then MF woke up and we were staring at each other in my moonlit room with eyes half open. He realized that he was in my bed, in my apartment and jolted up while mumbling that we can't do this, that it was wrong and bad for both us. He put his shoes on and had bolted out of my apartment at 4:00am. In about 30 seconds flat, he was gone. I lied staring at the ceiling with my hand resting on my forehead angry that I had let this happen. Even though we weren't physically intimate, why do I feel so awful?
La Pearl
78, rue Vieille du Temple
75003, Paris
