I've already told you, some time ago, the difficult or even nonexistent contact that occurred between the male French and myself during my stay with them. As I am now fond of pop psychology, I again looked in my memories behind this misunderstanding between me and them. And this origin lies in my first meaningful contact with a male to my arrival in Paris.
I was in Paris with a friend for a week after which we separate ourselves up to go in our respective home towns. I was, as always, single while my friend was in a relationship with a boy who had remained in Montreal. These two were called about a thousand times a day and sending each more or less than one hundred emails per day. When my girlfriend was not in line with Montreal, she was crying because she missed so much of her lover suddenly became too great and perfect in its absence. This kind of relationship is already quite exasperating honeyed like this, multiply these effects by twelve when you are alone with the mourner to 3000 miles from home.
whole thing only in order to justify my strong desire to meet people and my little subtlety to get there.
I was in Paris with a friend for a week after which we separate ourselves up to go in our respective home towns. I was, as always, single while my friend was in a relationship with a boy who had remained in Montreal. These two were called about a thousand times a day and sending each more or less than one hundred emails per day. When my girlfriend was not in line with Montreal, she was crying because she missed so much of her lover suddenly became too great and perfect in its absence. This kind of relationship is already quite exasperating honeyed like this, multiply these effects by twelve when you are alone with the mourner to 3000 miles from home.
whole thing only in order to justify my strong desire to meet people and my little subtlety to get there.
I thought the police cars in France completely ridiculous and I was taking pictures of two of them stationed near the Champs March, when a young and cute policeman scolded me and threatened me withdraw my film. Since there is nothing easier than to bribe a police officer of 25 years, French moreover, I finally received an invitation for the evening. The evening went well, we ate and talked about everything and nothing and I went back to my hotel by taxi, after having exchanged my email with my new friend Florent.
few days later, I went by train to Lyon, where I was going to settle for the next few months. Upon my arrival, I had an email from Florence, saying he had never visited Lyon and he would love to come spend a weekend and explore my new town with me. Besides the fact that I'm probably a little dumb and naive, that I am alone in the world on the other side of the ocean made me quite spontaneously accept this offer, which ultimately did not prove the idea of the century.
Florent arrived the following Friday, after 500 kilometers on a motorbike. He gave me a great meal (the French know how to cook, it, is not no doubt), we drank lots of wine and we finally went to sleep. Obviously, I had no other place to make him sleep in the other half of my bed, which complicates things slightly. Indeed, Florent, like a hungry animal, tried to eat me raw, without even telling me, which made me not only startled but also push for ever. A first approach failed, it is rather overwhelming.
The next day we traveled the city together and everything went quite smoothly until the evening when I had to unfortunately find myself again at his side, obviously well-armed my ugliest pajamas. That evening, I was treated to a crisis of male fru, telling me that I was really dumb and void if I could imagine two seconds he was able to drive 500 miles to road to avoid sleep with me. You guessed it, it gave me even more taste to say no, what I did with great success.
Sunday was the straw that broke the camel's back. We went on terrace, just to have a drink and enjoy the beautiful weather that gave us the month of September. As it was 25 degrees in Quebec that I'm good, I'm (not much) wearing a rather short skirt and a camisole neckline. While we were discussing Florent and me and I finally felt the harmony point the nose because of his imminent departure, it went with the quips that he signed his death warrant.
"You saw how you dressed? Everybody is watching you! I seem to myself what? Is it written in my forehead I share? "
It obviously took me a few seconds to realize really what this bastard had just told me but after much thought (1 / 2 second), I gave him the pass of Quebec in Christ. I lowered my chest, I went back the balls to be sure it is as indecent as possible and I told him, looking him straight in the eye: "It's you in those big balls you there? No? Well I'll show them who I want and you do not have a say. And I stayed in that position until he indecently coronation his camp.
