Je T’aime… Moi Non Plus

7th September 2009

I’m going to Paris with a boy, but we are not in love. We are not getting married. While we are there he will not propose. We will not walk hand in hand down tree-lined boulevards, or share coffee and a pastry at a sidewalk café. Well, OK we might go to a café but we’ll have one pastry each. Maybe two. I’m going to Paris with a boy, but there will be no hanky and definitely no panky; no hilarious language barrier moments with the old woman who’s the hostess / ruthless dictator of the quaint bed and breakfast where we’ll stay. He will not kiss me at sundown under the glittering glow of the Eiffel Tower. Absolutely no one will be wearing a fucking beret.

6 responses

  1. An Unreliable Witness comments:

    Yeah yeah, so why are you wearing a string of onions round your neck, eh?

  2. Rose Of Montague comments:

    This story makes me sad.

  3. Jim Murdoch comments:

    So what’s not in it for the boy?

  4. Ani Smith comments:

    AUW: There will be no onions, either!

    Rose: Really? Why? I don’t understand.

    Jim: Showing your age there, Jim.

  5. Rose Of Montague comments:

    It makes me sad because love is fantastic, and even though Paris is just another bullshit town, it’s supposed to be filled with the sharing of pastries, I think. Also, and this overrides everything else I just said, berets are fucking awesome.

  6. Ani Smith comments:

    That’s precisely it! Paris is SUPPOSED to be all these things. Maybe I’m being too reactionary, but I hate what things are supposed to be. I want to see what IS and what is interesting to me, not act out someone else’s idea of it. Also, people put entirely too much emphasis on love, so much they choke to death the very thing they crave.

    Berets are just silly. Get a fedora or a trilby, even a flat cap, and we’ll talk. Not a stetson, though. You gotta be a certain kind of somebody to pull off a stetson.

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