I have said no to most, except one in Turkey, which eventually I said no to, thanks to good advice from a special friend in New Zealand. It could have been disastrous in hindsight!!
And I also said yes, to two in Paris. This week. Both were chance meetings, they were sitting next to me in a cafe, and the cafes are very close together. So you sort of rub elbows with the person next to you. It is easy to strike up conversations.
Both were nice, professional men, one an Accountant, the other a diplomat turned professor. Both spoke good English, the Accountant good Spanish, so it was easy. Neither seemed like a stalker or a murderer, or a weirdo. Neither I fancied, lets get that straight. Not my type, but both pleasant and friendly and helpful. So naturally, I said yes after long conversations, to a further meeting to talk about New Zealand, etc etc. All above board and no agendas on my part.
I am not looking for someone. I have someone I fancy very much in New Zealand, so my frame of mind was definitely not on the game, and if they had been women, I would have felt the same way, 'make the most of getting to know the locals' ....
Alexandre was the one I met at Champ Elysees, at a cafe, while I was trying to (ironically) find the metro path to meeting the other, Alberto, the following night. He asked me in French if I needed help with the metro map. I said as I do, "Desole, Je ne parle pan france" that is phonetic, in case you did'nt get it!! Sorry I do not speak French!!
Alexandre was extremely friendly and helped me with the way to get to Alberto. (This is starting to sound weird)
Why didn't I just realise that fact then!!!??
He invited me to show me around Paris, his neighbourhood, offered to pay for a boat ride, an open bus trip, a walk around the gardens.... I said no, too tired, better dash, etc etc. He was SO insistent, and I could not shake him off, and so when he said, "can I take you out to lunch, to find out more about NZ".... muggings here, said Oh, why not!!?
I chose a place 2 minutes around the corner from where Sam's flat is, so that I was in familiar territory. I got that right at least!!
We met, and he was waiting for me, and I should have sort of noted to self the moment he greeted me, that the smell of after shave was a tad strong, and that the greeting kiss was a tad too long, but NAIVE ME, let it slide.....out came my hard cover book on New Zealand, and I was yabbering on like an idiot on idiotic stuff that I thought would be interesting to a native Parisian, never quite getting the asides he would mutter, and all of a sudden it hit me.
He sat back and said some stuff that just about blew me away. I felt like an absolute dork and totally out of my depth. He was hitting on me!! Then I saw the look in his eyes ..... Eeeweee, YUK!!! I thought Oh, My, God.... how do I get out of this..... I offered to take a photo, to diffuse things..... a picture paints a thousand words......
How YUK is that!!!
Luckily I had asked Sam to ring me at a given time, and he did, so our time came to an end, and he paid (a small fortune) for lunch, and insisted on walking me to Sam's flat, and although I was not happy about it, given he had told me I was the best thing since sliced bread, and could we have a relationship....... I thought , the sooner am rid of this horrible man the better..... THEN, the Clanger. He tells me he got MARRIED LAST WEEK!!!! And that French men have "compartments" in their lives, and I could be another "compartment" that we keep to ourselves, and he could fly me over for April next year......
I just about had kittens!!
At the door, he grabs me and wants a kiss (am about to throw up at this stage) and I say NO and although he is pawing at me I avert my face, and plant a very, very red lipstick mark on his upper sleeve!! Of a very scented white shirt!! I get to the key board, with dreaded numbers... I would have lost the plot with the code, if I had not stamped in my brain, that the code to get in was the same as the shape of the Eiffel Tower, so luckily it worked!! (Only people who know me and numbers will get that last comment)....
I pant up the stairs, to a very safe apartment...
I had a very, very strong drink, again ironically from a bottle of Russian Vodka, which was in Sam's cupboard, as Alexandre, turned out to be a diplomat in the time of Gorbachev!!
I cancelled Alberto, there and then.
How. Do. I. GET. Myself. Into. These. Situations.
He has pestered me with phone calls, texts and emails. I have ignored them all. I want to go home NOW!!!
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