Damn it. I had to leave.
Right when the weather started to get warm ..right when school was over and we no longer had to worry about class …right before les soldes rush began …just when I was starting to find myself in French….
….I had to say goodbye.
In those last few weeks I decided to let myself go, embrace life, and stop worrying so much. “My time here is limited” I thought, “why not take a plunge“. And it was then that I finally started to understand the Frenchman.
I realize now that the Frenchman can be quite charming. He is the sensitive sort with curious pensées, soucis, and resolutions that occupy his mind. I must admit — he is rather pale and quite lanky — but his masculinity lies in his gallantry not his machismo. He has a love for beauty in all its forms: music, art, poetry, literature; but his favorite form of beauty is in the form of a woman. She stirs something within him and makes him forget himself. But it’s alright, for it would be a egregious towards God to not to enjoy His creation.
Alas, I am back in The States where the men chug beer and do not sip wine. This is a land where quantity proceeds quality … But how can we enjoy the moment when consumption prevails?
Regardless, flirting is flirting and I am throwing my rule book out the window. I have been taught that it is like a subtle dance…There is no prey, there is no chaser; only two people dancing together.
So come dance with me.