Getting Lucky?



Thought I was.

Damn you Mister Blue eyes.

I totes thought you were on this.

So did Maggie, fyi, that was interesting.

At least I was not fooling myself.  I felt something and it was confirmed by another outside set of eyes.  But that wedding band on your finger is a wedding band on your finger and one too many times the “we” did this and “we” moved here, I got the ‘you are a unit’ and that unit does not include me.

However, goddamn, it was nice to flirt.

I was thinking I was getting rusty.

And my blind date for Valentines Day cancelled.

Which is funny, since I was going to cancel on him.  It was quite easy when it came to it.  I realized I was not interested and I did not want to go and then, voila, something came up.


I will have my own Valentines Day celebration.

I will take myself out.

I am in Paris and it is a romantic city, isn’t it?

I don’t plan on proposing to myself at the Eiffel Tower or taking a boat along the Seine.  But I will confess to wanting to go for a ride on the Ferris Wheel at Place de la Concorde.

I had originally planned on making that a birthday gift to myself, but it never happened, tattoos and coffee with friends and dinner with the room-mate precluded the ferris wheel ride.

Perhaps tomorrow is the time to do it.

Take a romantic stroll through the Tuileries at dusk and go for a ride on the ferris wheel while the sunsets and the lights bloom on the Eiffel Tower.  I also want to get myself some flowers.  I have not bought roses or daisies or blooms for myself since I have been here.

I really like getting flowers and since no one is currently queuing up to give them to me, it falls upon myself to romance myself.

I was thinking I may also splurge on a meal.

I have not taken myself out to eat in, well, months.  I have been doing all my cooking and eating at home.  Which is great on the purse strings, but a Valentines Day dinner might be a nice little thing for myself.

I will admit here and now I am a sucker for this day.

I am not going to freak out about not having anything or anyone, I have myself.

I love myself.

I am smitten with myself.

I took myself swimming today.

It is almost old hat, after having gone all of three times.

It is a quick hour in my day where I am sliding through warm water and gliding into the most beautiful blank spots.  My mind gone, all body, totally present, totally in the moment, slipping over pool tiles and the reflections of bubbles trailing from my wake.

The feeling of being under water after doing a flip turn and pulling streamlined quicksilver fish long and limber.  I lost track of my laps and just swam until my foot cramped.

I barely rested on the edge.

I just pulled back and forth, back and forth.

A hot shower.

A dash back to the house and a nice salad and then off to the Metro to meet with the peeps that loved me until I could love myself.

I have no expectations for tomorrow.  No one who I will hope will give me flowers or candy or time or a “nice dining experience”.  It is nice to have romance for myself of myself.

Now, I will not deny it, I would love to be kissed and snuggled with.



I said that.

But whatever.

It will come.

I will come.




I know if I take myself out on a date I will get lucky.


If I want to.

Or I will go for a swim.

Or I will go to a cafe.

I will write.

I will read.

I will do all the things I already do for myself having allowed myself to love myself, who I am, who I have grown to be.  I am a pretty awesome woman. I embrace myself, silly pink tights and jack-a-lope tattoo and heart on my sleeve and all that nonsense.

I do actually feel like a date though.

I have the loosely planned idea to head over to George V tomorrow around noon, then after head up to le Comptoir de l’Arc for a late lunch, steak tartar.  Lunch dates are always nice, not too much pressure, they can morph into longer dates or they can be concluded.

Then a walk.

Perhaps all the way to Shakespeare and Company.

A new book.

Yes, I finished another.

I am whipping through them.

I am going to have to up my book allowance.  Twenty Euro a month is not enough.

I still have yet to get Stephen King’s “On Writing.”

After the book, then to the ferris wheel?

Of course, the nice thing about an all day date with myself is that I can ultimately go anywhere and do anything.  I only have one commitment tomorrow.  I have a wide open calendar.

Who knows what will fill it.

I do not know how many Valentines Days I will get in Paris.

I don’t want to waste it sitting in the apartment woe is me’ing because I am single.

Fuck that.

I am fabulous.

I deserve Paris.

Paris, je t’aime.

Will you be my Valentine?

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