My life has done a
I used to spend my days largely alone. Wake up. Yoga or run. Grocery store. Work. Work at the library. More work in bed. Make dinner. Work. Bootleg movies online. Bed. (Or, three or four times a week, a simple drink with friends.)
Ever since Henri came into the picture, this comfortable Leo alone-time schedule has gone out the window. And I’m happy for it. Instead of rising at 6 a.m. with an instant ball of stress pounding in my chest making me obsessively plan my day, things now start later. Henri goes to work at 10. We wake up with the sun, sometime around 7:30 and start off the day by making love (a phrase I’ve always hated but have come to find completely appropriate seeing as Henri literally asks me with a nudge of his chin and a sleepy smile if I want to faire l’amour). Then: lounging in bed with coffee and pain au chocolate which Henri or I buy fresh from the bakery until 8:30, taking a shower together, and finally saying goodbye for the next nine hours or so until we meet up for dinner or wine and cheese in the park or by the river.
In a nutshell: I think I’m in love. Keep reading »
Relationships in Paris run on coincidences, run-ins, and screwball scenarios. It’s perhaps a cliche, and you might actually feel like you’re living in a comedic French movie, but the love triangle (or just crazy romantic entanglements in general) is ever-present. Between my girlfriends and me, there’s always something fascinating happening. Randomly, someone’s off in Morocco for a “platonic” weekend with their ex’s friend, another one is breaking up with her 55-year-old boyfriend and going on a date with a politician next week, or the guy someone met in a bar last week won’t stop sending the most over-the-top lovesick texts.
As for me, it seems there’s been a general stream of “love interests” and dates and “potentials,” but nothing’s ever quite been the whirlwind romance you’d expect from Parisian living. Until now. Keep reading »
For all women, there are universal female experiences that rank inevitably high on the embarrassment scale. Try, for example:
- “Price check. Can I get a price check on a box of Ultra Heavy Flow Tampax tampons?”
- “Uh, babe, did you just queef?”
- “I can see your days of the week underwear through that skirt, and just so you know, it’s not Thursday.”
Try having a female problem in a foreign country and you’ll multiply any of your shame times 10 … Keep reading »
My friend Megan from the States is in town for a few days, and yesterday we spent a lazy Sunday walking up and down the Seine, making fun of French joggers in ridiculous running gear and checking out the guys who passed us by.
“Wow, Paris definitely has some attractive men,” she noted as a particularly dashing gentleman in a perfectly tailored suit passed by us.
“Indeed, it does,” I agreed. We walked on a bit more, taking in the sights.
“Oh man,” she said. “Like that guy that we just passed, did you see him? So. Hot.”
“What? Where? No.”
“How could you not see him? He was looking straight at us.”
“Leo, I think you have a bit of a perception problem. You really don’t seem to catch on when guys are checking you out.”
“I do too! I just don’t try to make anything too obvious, you know?” Keep reading »
“Hi honeeeyyy! So have you talked to your sister about July?”
“Mom, what? What’s happening in July?”
“You’re coming home. You and your sister are going to come up to Maine.”
“Uh, we are?”
I shouldn’t have been surprised when talking on the phone with my mother last week because stuff like this is typical mom-behavior. You know, telling you what to do, or making plans and then “informing” you of them, rather than scheduling them. Ever since I knew I might stay in Paris for a few extra months, I also knew I’d probably want to make a trip home at some point, but hadn’t gotten that far yet. With my mom on my back about July—not a month I would have picked for travel to the U.S.—it’s started to remind me of this weird relationship space I’m entering with my parents, one that I don’t know how to negotiate yet. Keep reading »
Bonjour, mes amis. It is I, Leonora, your faithful heroine on zee mission ov finding her one true love à Paree. So, it ees wis great disappointment zat I muss tell you that this week, I haf made très peu de progress. I am, how you say, a leetle stuck in zee matters of zee heart.
OK, so actually, the truth is just that I had a rather uneventful week. No word from any boys. Stayed in most nights, preferring to take walks and cook dinner alone. I’m not feeling too sad or lonely, just experiencing a slight lull in entertainment. But in general, I’m cool and calm, and have been focusing on appreciating Paris for the amazing city that it is. Keep reading »