Sleeping with Paris

by Juliette Sobanet

  After performing a balancing act with my heels on the uneven cobblestone streets that wound past the Panthéon, I spotted Lexi smoking a cigarette and showing some leg underneath the blue and white awning of the bar. I felt cute in my favorite red, strapless top, my dark, boot-cut jeans, and my black, strappy heels. But Lexi was dressed to the nines. She had on a short, black skirt and a skimpy, metallic-blue tank top which showcased her outrageous cleavage. She definitely wasn’t leaving much to the imagination.

  Inside the smoky bar, Lexi led me downstairs, and we pushed our way through the crowded dance floor over to the bar where we ordered two rum and cokes.

  “So, have you heard from that scumbag ex-fiancé of yours since you got here?” She took a swig of her drink, then a puff of her cigarette.

  “Nope, not a word.”

  “And you’re not trying to get in touch with him, are you?”

  “No way,” I assured her.

  “Good, because you don’t want to look pathetic. And you don’t want to be the one crawling back to him. I mean you’re in Paris, you’re hot, and you’re going to meet other guys, so you have nothing to worry about.”

  I surveyed the dance floor and didn’t see anyone even remotely interesting. Oh God, did I really have to play this game again? Dress up, try to impress some stupid guy at a bar, take him home, hook up, wake up and do it all over again? What in the hell was I doing?

  Then I thought of Brooke. Jeff having sex with Brooke while I was wearing his ring. And suddenly, my motivation to go buck wild in Paris came roaring back.

  “Wanna take a shot and get moving on this meeting new guys thing?” I asked her.

  “Hell yeah, girl.”

  And with that, we ordered two shots of tequila, downed them like they were water and hit the dance floor.

  Not more than ten seconds after we started dancing, two decent-looking French guys made eyes at us from across the room, bolted across the dance floor and started dancing with us. They were both super skinny (surprise, surprise) and had short, military haircuts. Lexi immediately gravitated toward the dark-haired one and wrapped her arms around him. The blond one closed in on me, gripped my waist, and pushed me further into the center of the dance floor. I rested my arms on his bony shoulders and let all thoughts of the past week drift away as the alcohol numbed me.

  After dancing with the random, nameless French guy for about two songs, he finally spoke to me.

  “Vous êtes française?” he shouted into my ear. The bass was bumping so loud, it was hard to hear anything other than the music.

  “Non, je suis américaine.”

  “Oh, you speak zee English? You are . . . euh, how do you say . . . very pretty.”

  As I laughed at his typical, corny response, he shouted, “You want a drink?”

  He took my hand and led me over to the bar. For a split second, I remembered how Jeff had taken my hand and led me to the bar the night we first met. I didn’t feel any butterflies this time though.

  We ordered two shots each and took them one right after the other. After the second shot, Nameless French Boy led me back out onto the dance floor so we could really start heating the place up. He slid his hands up and down my back as he pressed his body close to mine. I didn’t even notice if he was a good dancer because those shots had hit me pretty hard. Before I knew it, his lips were on mine and we were making out as if we were alone in my room and not in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

  I caught a glimpse of Lexi and the other nameless French boy next to us. They were doing the exact same thing.

  I wasn’t sure how long the dancing and kissing continued, but it felt great to relax in another man’s arms and forget about everything that had been happening.

  At the end of the night, Nameless French Boy finally told me his name.

  “Frédéric,” he said with a grin. “And you?” he asked with his arms still wrapped around my waist.

  “Charlotte,” I stammered, giggling.

  “I love zat name. So beauteeful. And you, you are so beauteeful too. Maybe we can see each other zis week?”

  “Sure, when are you free?”

  “Well, I am an officer of zee police, so I work at zee daytime. But maybe at night I can see you? I can have your phone number?”

  After I scribbled my number on a napkin for Frédéric, he leaned down to give me one last passionate bar kiss. How romantic. I couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy it though.

  “I go to find my friend now . . . but I will miss you,” Frédéric said as he looked down at me longingly. Then he wiped a fake tear out from under his eye and said almost incomprehensibly, “I tear without you.”

  I laughed out loud. Come on—I tear? What the hell was that supposed to mean? He was going to cry because he had to leave me?

  “I’m sure you’ll be okay, Freddy boy,” I said as I grabbed his hand and led him over to the corner of the bar where Lexi and her French dude were still going at it pretty hot and heavy. It was definitely time to go home.

  “Mmhmm,” Frédéric grunted, trying to get their attention.

  Lexi disentangled herself from Frédéric’s friend’s lips and shot us a devious grin. If we had waited any longer to come over here, they probably would’ve been kicked out of the bar for indecent exposure. This dude looked like he was just dying to rip her clothes off.

  “On y va?” Frédéric asked Lexi’s new boy toy if he wanted to get going.

  “Ouais,” he answered reluctantly before he went in for another long, passionate kiss, much like the one Frédéric had just given me. Having already completed our make-out and dance session for the night, Frédéric and I shuffled around and surveyed the steamy bar for what seemed like an eternity while the horny love birds wrapped things up.

  Finally, they came up for air and the boys were off. A wave of exhaustion swept over me as Lexi and I headed for the door. My feet were killing me. It was time to go home and get some sleep.

  “So, it looks like you had a pretty hot time. I told you that you had nothing to worry about,” Lexi said as she put her arm around me. We laughed as we stumbled out of the bar and split a cab ride home.

  The alcohol had worn off by the time I reached my dorm, and suddenly I wasn’t feeling that tired anymore. I hated going home alone and trying to fall asleep by myself. While it had been fun to distract myself for the night with a new guy, the whole bar scene made me feel even more desperate and alone than I already felt. I missed home. I missed my friends. And most of all, I missed the feeling of security that I had felt with Jeff. But here I was, back in the singles scene again, back out at the bars, making out with random guys. Acting like I was in college. But, what other choice did I have?

  I glanced at myself in the mirror. My black eye make-up had smudged, my lipstick had worn off, and the circles under my eyes had grown to epic proportions. I looked like a drunken mess.

  What in the hell was I doing?

  I sat down at my computer, hoping to find some emails from home that could take away this empty, sickening feeling.

  But there, at the top of my inbox, was an email from Jeff.

  Seven

  samedi, le 2 octobre

  When the ex comes knocking, lock your heart in a vault and don’t answer the door.

  Charlotte,

  How are you? How are things in Paris? I hope you’re okay. I miss you more than you can imagine. I wish you would’ve let me explain so we could’ve worked things out. Can you email me your number over there so we can at least talk?

  I need you, Charlotte.

  I love you,

  Jeff

  Patches of heat stung my face as I stared at the screen. What in the hell was he thinking? Did he forget that he cheated on me?

  At the same time I felt elated that he had written to me, that he missed me, that he still loved me. I loved him so much and just wanted to be with him, talk to him, feel his arms around me. Anything to make this emptiness go away.

  And still, I was so furious with him
. Furious at everything he had done and at his insensitive email. I needed to move on and get over him, but reading his words on the screen made me want to fly back to DC and forget that any of this had ever happened.

  I started typing.

  Dear Jeff,

  I miss you like crazy and I love you too. I’m coming home tomorrow. Let’s just forget about everything and move on.

  Love,

  Charlotte

  I read my email over and over again, wanting to hit the “send” button so that I could erase everything and go back to the way things used to be before he had hurt me so badly. But that’s just it—he had hurt me, more than anyone had in my entire life, and I knew in my heart that there was no way I could move on and pretend it had never happened. I deleted my email and started over.

  Jeff,

  After everything you’ve put me through, how can you expect me to want to talk to you? Please just leave me alone.

  Charlotte

  ***

  I woke up the next morning to the sound of my head pounding inside my skull. My mind raced to remember the night before. The shots, Frédéric, and as if I could forget, Jeff’s email. As soon as I remembered our email exchange, I shot out of bed and turned on my computer to see if Jeff had replied.

  Nothing. No response. I guess I had told him to leave me alone. Still, I was hoping for a response. I wanted Jeff to fight for me. To not take no for an answer. But there was nothing except the pounding inside my head and the silence in my lonely room greeting me when I awoke that morning.

  I took a couple of Aleve and downed two glasses of water while I gazed out my window at the tree-lined path behind my dorm. The leaves on the trees were just starting to change colors, making the view even more charming and beautiful than it already was. I was having a hard time appreciating it though.

  I had wanted to live and study in Paris for so long, and now here I was, feeling miserable and lonely in the most romantic city in the world. Plus, I’d already started off on the wrong foot with Madame Rousseau. I wanted to believe that she was a nice woman, that she’d recommend me to a wonderful school, and that a year from now I’d be happily teaching at my dream job in Paris. But, after the stunt I’d pulled and the wreck of a phone conversation we’d had afterward, I wasn’t too hopeful.

  I checked the clock; it was already two p.m. I couldn’t believe I had slept that late. I picked up my cell phone to see if I had missed any calls but saw that I had a text message instead. It was from a number I didn’t recognize. It read:

  I kissed you baby. I love the American girl. More kisses this week. I call you soon. Hope you had the good night.

  I burst into laughter. No doubt it was from Frédéric. Nothing like a hilarious text message from a random French boy to brighten my mood. I immediately called Lexi.

  “Hey babe,” Lexi said as she yawned into the phone. “I’m so hung over from last night, but it was totally worth it. That guy was such a sweet kisser. How are you?”

  “I’m tired too. I just woke up actually. Speaking of those guys, I just got a text message from mine. Wait until you hear this.”

  I read her the message, and we both laughed hysterically into the phone.

  “You better get used to it. I have a whole slew of absurd foreign boy text messages saved on my phone. He was pretty hot though. Are you going to see him again if he calls you?”

  “I think so. He was a lot of fun, not that I remember too much. But I need all I can get right now, so I’m open to whatever.”

  “You definitely need some sexy man action after everything your ex just put you through. You poor thing, how are you holding up?”

  “I’m doing okay for the most part, I guess. I have these moments where I miss him so much, and I just want to forget about everything and go back to him. But I know I can’t do that, and I know things will be fine here,” I lied just a little bit. I wasn’t really sure if I’d be okay or if that gnawing feeling in my stomach would ever go away. But I did know that I couldn’t go back to Jeff. I’d been known to hold a grudge or two, and cheating was one of the offenses I’d never been able to forgive. If I did go back to him, I’d hold it over his head forever.

  “Yeah, honey,” Lexi continued. “It’s just going to take some time. Plus you have me now, and we’re going to tear things up in Paris, so don’t you worry,” she assured me.

  “Thanks, Lexi. Hey, so what’s the story with you and Benoît? Are you guys still dating?”

  “Yeah, we’re still seeing each other. It’s not serious though, and definitely not exclusive. I’m just not that kind of girl. I like to go out and have my fun, you know? There’s no point in tying yourself down when shit happens like what just happened to you. No offense or anything.”

  “None taken. I totally agree. Men are pretty much good for sex, and . . . well, that’s about it!”

  “You got it, girl. And, like I told you, that’s the one thing that Benoît is extremely good at. I’m sure Luc isn’t so bad himself.”

  “Really, you think he’s good in bed?” I remembered then that I was supposed to go over to Luc’s for dinner that night.

  “Oh yeah, no doubt about it. Have you seen that ass? Get a move on it! It’s obvious that he likes you.”

  “Well, he’s cooking me dinner tonight. At least that will help me get my mind off of everything.”

  “Well, there you go. It’s in the bag. I gotta run, but keep me posted on how tonight goes, and let’s definitely go out again soon. Talk to you later, Charlotte.”

  Lexi was a wild woman. Much wilder than Katie, or any of my other friends for that matter. But, a wild relationship-hater friend was just what I needed right now.

  I thought about what Lexi had said about Luc. I wondered how she knew he was good in the sack. Probably just a rumor through mutual friends . . . but, it wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d slept with him at one point. On the other hand though, Lexi didn’t really seem like Luc’s type. Not that I knew him that well . . . or really at all. Oh well, it didn’t matter. I needed to focus on having some fun with Luc tonight and moving on. Yes, Jeff and I had just broken up, but what was the point of sitting around and feeling sorry for myself when I knew I wasn’t going to go back to him? I decided to get moving and start primping for my dinner with Luc that night. Before any of that though, I had to sign onto my blog to share the latest.

  I was surprised to see that I had five new comments. Three were from my friends, and two were from girls I didn’t even know. All five of the women were right on board with my train of thought. A woman named Jill from Indiana had commented on my very first post:

  “This is better than any self-help book. Keep the adventures flowing and the lessons coming. I’m sending this to all of my girlfriends. You’re definitely onto something here. Can’t wait to read more.”

  Another woman, K.T. from New York, wrote:

  “I just found out that my boyfriend of six years has been sleeping with another woman for the past year. I’m devastated. One of my friends forwarded me your blog. I love this idea—dating like a man, but beating them at their own game. Count me in. You hang in there too—I know you must be hurting.”

  Inspired by my new online friends, I composed a new post:

  Rule # 1 – Have no shame and treat it like a game.

  Horny, drunk guys will approach almost any woman in a bar, give them a corny line, get shot down and do it again. They clearly have no shame. Because to them, it’s all a game of who they can score next.

  We can do the same thing ladies, but of course we’ll do it with a finesse that men could never possess. Don’t be afraid to talk to a cute guy in a bar. After all, if he disses you, he’s not worth your time anyway. And remember, we don’t care if we ever see him again. Put yourself out there to meet new guys, and don’t expect any of them to be your Mr. Right. Who is that dude anyway? I know I’ve never met him.

  Rule # 2 – Resist all temptation to get back with sleazy exes.

  To do this, you m
ust follow lesson # 1 above. If you’re sitting at home alone remembering all of the good old days, this is a perfect time for your nasty, cheating ex to sneak up on you and attack. This is dangerous.

  You must be meeting other men to counteract an attack of this sort. Because, believe me, after those cheaters have had a little bit of time to sit with the weight of their actions, they will come crawling right back to you, begging for mercy.

  Don’t. Give. In.

  Rule # 3 – Protect your heart at all costs.

  After you’ve put your ex in his place, you may still secretly hope he will continue fighting for you. In these moments of desperation, remember that he was the one who chose to give you up when he cheated, and that even though you are hurting more than you ever thought possible, protecting your heart should be your number one priority. Don’t let him or your overwhelming emotions convince you otherwise.

  Eight

  samedi, le 2 octobre

  Always bring a to-go box on a dinner date—you never know if you’ll

  have to flee the scene.

  At seven o’clock on the dot, I was ready to go. I had thrown together a casual but sexy outfit. I was wearing my favorite dark jeans paired with a pretty, light pink tank that showed off my cleavage. No need for modesty at this point. It was time to go for it.

  I walked the five steps down the hall to Luc’s place and knocked on the door. A whiff of butter and tomato sauce wafted past me as his smiling face appeared in the doorway.

  “Salut Charlotte,” he said sweetly as he kissed my cheeks.

  Oh my gosh, Luc is so incredibly gorgeous. Maybe we can just skip dinner?

  “Salut Luc,” I said as I returned the kisses.

  Luc’s place was much roomier than mine. It was more like a studio apartment than a teeny dorm room. He had it sectioned off into two separate spaces, a living room with a couch and a small kitchen table, and then a bedroom area with a real bed (not a plastic cot mattress like the one I had). The bare walls and limited color scheme screamed bachelor pad, but it was clean and comfortable, and it smelled of basil, garlic and Luc’s cologne. I liked it.