I mean.
Is it really?
Is it a dilemma?
Or am I just afraid of being judged.
Of having to defend myself.
Or my actions.
Am I afraid to eat a lot of crow.
That’s likely an exaggeration.
It would be a little crow.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Am I afraid of being human?
Messy?
Probably.
I do sense I will be judged.
But then again, those that know me, care about me, love me.
Are not judging me.
At least to my face.
My friends know.
My important people know.
Why do I need to do anything with social media?
Because.
God damn it.
We look adorable.
Happy.
In love.
Which is what we are.
I love him.
He loves me.
The break up happened not because there was a lack of love.
Then the un-breaking up happened.
We’ve been back together for a month’ish or so.
Tomorrow will be eleven months from our first date.
We’re sneaking up on a year of being in each other’s lives.
Part of me wants to post pictures from our latest trip.
Especially the one of us at a Justine’s in Austin.
This hip French restaurant that a friend tipped me off to.
It was romantic and cool and hipster and fantastical.
We looked cool and handsome and beautiful.
The light was perfect.
The food, so French.
Made me yearn for Paris.
I will be there in about three weeks.
Currently my man is not able to come with me, but he’s looking into it.
It could happen.
He’s got work travel and work responsibilities.
But maybe.
He might be able to do it.
That would be beyond wonderful.
It would be dreamy to be in Paris a year after we started dating.
Especially as the first time we kissed we made out in front of my house for twenty minutes, more?
I said it was like being in Paris.
Where public displays of affection are the norm.
Kiss him in the streets.
Walk hand in hand through the Marais.
Make out in the Pompidou.
Or the Palais de Tokyo.
On the banks of the Seine.
In the Tuilleries.
On one of the pedestrian bridges over the Canal St. Martin.
Or on the pont de Bir-Hakeim just after the Passy Metro stop next to the art Deco apartments where they filmed Last Tango in Paris.
I would detour us down to walk the Isle aux Cynges.
The Isle of Swans.
The little man made island in the Seine.
Just off the beaten path.
Where swans swim.
Trees line the paths.
The Seine sparkles in the sun, the Eiffel Tower is off in the not so near distance, and at the end of the isle is a replica of the Statue of Liberty.
It is uber romantice.
Not swarmed with tourists.
I know.
I know.
When I go to Paris, I am a tourist.
But having lived there for a spell and this being my 9th trip there, I don’t like the heavily touristed areas of Paris.
I get too overwhelmed with the crowds and like most places that have a lot of tourists one gets the junk restaurants and cafes, overpriced tacky gee gaws, and those that prey on tourists, pick pockets galore.
No.
I like the less traveled places.
So I would take him there.
Amongst other spots.
Sit on a bench.
Watch the bateaux go by.
Make out.
Then walk over the pont de Bir-Hakeim and into the 15th arrondisement down Boulevarde de Grenelle to Cafe Cantine du Troquet Dupleix.
Oh.
So, so, so good.
Basque influenced.
One of the best steaks I have ever had.
Also a plancha of shrimp that made me crazy.
Un plat du fromage that was so divine I can still taste it.
I accidentally discovered it on a trip in 2017.
I was staying at an acquaintances home that I had met when I lived there in the winter/spring of 2012-2013.
She had heard I was looking to come to Paris for Christmas that year and she was planning on being in New York, she offered me her spot in the 15th for a tuppance.
I later realized she shouldn’t have charged me at all.
The place was a hole.
But.
I was there and it was my first time back since I had lived there and I was a graduate student on a graduate student budget.
Beggars don’t get to be choosers.
Anyway.
The closest metro was Bir-Hakeim.
And I would walk down the boulevard and pass Cantine du Troquet.
FYI–the resto is named after the top of the Eiffel Tower–the very top of the tower is called a “troquet”.
I would walk past and be completely taken by the smells wafting out into the air.
I resolved to take my friend there for dinner.
My nose is usually pretty spot on.
I can tell when it’s worth it.
And this place was so worth it.
I’ve been back twice since 2017.
Once for my birthday dinner in 2019 right before the pandemic.
I’m not sure why I didn’t go the last time I was in Paris.
Probably because of all the drama with my lost luggage.
Anyway.
I will go there this trip.
I would love my love to come with.
If not.
I will take my mentor who is the reason I am going.
When the break up happened.
Before the made up happened.
My mentor, who had already booked a trip to Europe, said, “Doll, come with me to Paris.”
I had miles.
So I booked the trip.
My mentor will be in Florence and then headed to Paris.
He’ll get there one day before me.
We booked a large Air BnB in the Marais.
On Rue de la Pierre Levee.
Very close to the Canal St. Martin.
Stupid romantic.
I love staying in the Marais.
It is familiar to me.
Some of my favorite cafes are there.
Cafe Charlot.
Bookstores.
I love bookstores.
Most definitely the hippest book store in the world is there–Ofr Bookshop–https://www.instagram.com/ofrparis
Bookshop, small press publisher, film maker, gallery space, and teeny tiny line of ridiculously hip clothes, like tiny, tiny, maybe three, four cargo overhauls, bandanas, and some knit beanie hats.
I have a skull and cross bones bandana and a rose hipster beanie that I got there.
Plus a couple of magazines that I have never seen anywhere else.
I always want to buy much more than I could possibly carry back.
Last time I went my checked bag actually was too heavy, books and notebooks, oops, and I had to take stuff out and figure out how to carry more stuff in my carry one and purse.
I would take my love there.
If he were to come.
And if not this trip.
Then the next.
I love the Marais as well for the tiny, narrow streets, how close it is to the Pompidou, that I can walk to the Seine and cross over to Ile Saint Louis or Ile de la Cite very easily.
There’s great shopping.
There’s great markets.
And really great street art.
Anyway.
As I perseverate on whether or not to go public on social about the relationship, really all I want is to hustle my boyfriend away to Paris and steal kisses from him in the streets.
I don’t really care what y’all think.
It’s not my business.
I do care about impacting him though.
We do have mutual people and some of those folks A.) Don’t know we broke up or B.) Only know that we broke up.
Again.
My important people all know we’re back together and therefor what goes on social really doesn’t matter.
I just like posting sexy, beautiful photos of us because it brings me joy.
And I like sharing things with people.
I sense that like most things on social it would be a tiny little blip, a few hits, a few odd comments from people who aren’t all the close to me and then in two days it would go the way of all social media posts.
But.
At this moment.
I am keeping it, him, just a little close to the heart.
He’s mine.
I’m his.
And that is enough.
You can hit me up for the photo the next time you see me out in the world.
I’m happy to share it with you.
And maybe.
Just maybe.
I will get some pictures of us in Paris.
J’espere.