Whew

Today is about 100 times better than yesterday. What a difference a few hours makes!

The picnic I went to with the random French guy (his name is Pascal) is what they call an "apero". Basically, a whole bunch of people sign up on an email list (I think) and show up at a different street corner in Paris every Thursday at 8pm. Everyone brings something to drink (wine, beer, liquor, soda) and something to eat (chips, cheese, melon). French people (at least these people) are very sociable and it's easy to talk to them (well, if you speak French). I'm not sure what Pascal's interest in me is, but he introduced me to at least four or five people, which was impressive, considering this was his first time at this particular event. With each introduction, he'd ask if they spoke English. Many people didn't, but a few did and were actually glad of the opportunity to practice. A few people insisted that I speak French and I did my best.

Eventually, Pascal wandered off, perhaps sensing there were greener pastures. When I first arrived, there were maybe ten people standing around--by the end of the evening, it was about fifty!

I had several friendly conversations and got two contacts--both women!--out of the evening. I've met very few French women, so it's particularly exciting. See what happens when I'm not on the make? (It's kind of crazy not to be looking for men to talk to, though I never actually stop. I spotted several cute guys and talked at length to at least one, but I was fine with not getting his number.)

The first woman who gave me her number was super friendly and said she'd take me out to a jazz club next week--then apologized because the jazz clubs are much better in DC and New York. (Not if you never go to them, they're not.) I will call her next week--I'm excited.

She flitted off and I found myself in a long conversation with a young woman, Yuki, who was born in Japan but has lived in Paris since she was four. She apologized for her poor English, but she was the champion English speaker of the night. We really hit it off and we exchanged emails before I left.

While I was talking to Yuki, Pascal came by and said he was leaving. He didn't try to get me to come with him (he had another apero to attend), I think because he could see I was having a good time. I'm very grateful to him for bringing me--it was a real kindness.

Somewhere in there, we also spoke to a couple of African origin guys, one of whom was from Cuba. The other guy tried to pick me up. He didn't speak English and he started talking about different kinds of Middle Eastern and Indian food--I couldn't tell if he was offering to cook for me or to take me out. Then he asked for my phone number. It wasn't happening--how could I go out with this guy when we don't speak the same language? Plus, he was a little oily for my taste. So I did something outrageous: I said, "no." He didn't say anything, just turned and walked away. Oddly, this happened in the middle of my conversation with Yuki and she and her other friends didn't seem to notice.

One fellow asked me what the main cultural differences were between France and the US. He was distracted before I had a chance to answer, but I've been thinking about it ever since.

Here are a few:

• All planning is last minute planning. (Anecdotal evidence: all of the French people I've been out with call the day of or the day before to make plans--including the one woman I've spent time with.)
• Men are much more aggressive, but will back off quickly if you say no. Simple, sustained eye contact is enough to indicate interest.
• Personal space is much smaller than in the US.

That's a few for now. I'll keep working on it.

Today, I have all kinds of social prospects that I didn't have yesterday. I'll cop to sending A. a text after a couple of glasses of wine, but he didn't respond. Bummer. I didn't go home and cry about it, I went home and slept.

Tonight, I have a happy hour to attend. Tomorrow, I'll see the Canadian if I hear back from him. If not, there's a meetup event I can attend. Sunday, I'm going with another group to an outdoor (classical) concert. It's all working out, one way or another.

I'm also booking my trip to Berlin and points East. I did it in pieces this time, so I have separate pending bookings for Paris-Berlin and Berlin-Warsaw-Vienna. The Vienna-Paris piece I can't reserve, I'd have to buy it TODAY. I'm not quite ready for that! Also, I've eliminated Prague and Zurich from the itinerary in attempt to save my sanity. I think this is a more manageable, but still long, trip.

Grateful for: chance encounters.

Bad, bad, bad

I thought I had this nice little network of friends going, but it's all busted up. Argh. I haven't talked to anyone in two days! I don't know what to do about it.

My American friends--Peter left without saying goodbye. I haven't heard from Dara since Saturday (she may be busy, so I'm not completely counting her out).

A.--well, I think A. is history. All that's left is to decide if I want confirmation or if I can let him drift out of my life with no goodbye. Sad.

Pauline--my old French teacher. After our timing mix up, I sent her an email apologizing again. She wrote back but I detected a distinct "still angry" tone in her response. I could not deal with this and I haven't called her again. Seriously--I apologized twice even though I didn't do anything wrong--and she was still angry. I'm sure it's not about me, but I don't feel like explaining or apologizing anymore.

On Tuesday, I went to a happy hour (meetup style). I did talk to a few people. One French guy tried to pick me up--he actually wanted to whisk me off to Monmartre right then! I gave him my number but I said, "I should talk to some other people." I ended up button holing this very sweet Canadian guy who I found tremendously easy to talk to (but not physically attractive). He actually lives a block or two from me and we went home together on the metro. He gave me his info and I sent him an email yesterday. No response yet. I so want to be friends with him...but, do you think you can scare guys off with friendship desperation?

I fear I may lose my mind. The problem is, when I do meet people, I come on WAY too strong and I scare them off. The rest of the time I sit around wondering why no one likes me. It is all distorted and perverse.

Real time update: Well, how do you like that, the French dude from the other night just texted me--something about a picnic and a bottle of wine. It's a little cryptic. I'll have to call (or text) to get some clarification. (Looks like I'm going on a picnic! Hope it doesn't rain.)

Ok, so not everyone hates me. But, I don't know, more random French guys? Well, beggars can't be choosers.

Grateful for: conversation.

UPDATE: Since I posted this, I heard from the Canadian guy. He wants to get together this weekend. AND I heard from A. He said he's been working crazy hours and hasn't even been seeing his friends. We didn't make plans, but he said he'd be in touch. Yeah, right. Still--he wouldn't bother getting in touch if he hated* me, so that's the good news!

*Hate in the sense that he had lost interest in seeing me again, not in the sense of actual hatred.

Saddle up

I am trying to get myself on this writing horse. Since I'm going to the movies like it's a job, it feels that I ought to do some writing about it. I did, in fact, write ONE review (geez!) longhand but I've been slow to transcribe it. That said, I wondered if I could make some kind of deal with myself--if I go to a movie, I must write something about it. Long, short, review, reflection, story, doesn't matter. Not a terrible idea, but where do I get the internal motivation? I have lots of similarly bright ideas but relatively little follow through. Bah.

I can't seem to shake this vague guilt I have about being lazy / unproductive. I can't forget about it but I can't quite do anything about it either. Even a tiny bit of productivity would go a long way--heck, I'm not even writing in the blog every day! How lazy can I get? It seems that I'm going to find out.

I will say, the amount of mental work I'm doing is pretty astounding (I attribute it to the extreme amounts of alone time). Thus, this time is not wasted, it's just being used differently than I expected. Which, actually, isn't all that unexpected because I knew there was a good chance I wouldn't be motivated enough to write. Yes, writing a novel is my dream, but not every dream must be realized. Not working for six months is a damn good dream too, and well worth realizing. So is living in Paris for six months. If I make use of that time in not quite as demonstrable ways as putting words on paper, that hardly makes it a waste.

Ah, sigh. I feel better now!

Grateful for: motivation.

Trip

I have been so lazy today! I blame the Olympics and its bizarre and very lengthy closing ceremony. That and the almost constant heavy rain.

I tried to use my indoor-time productively and book my upcoming trip to Berlin and points east. The trip is looking like Paris - Berlin - Warsaw - Prague - Vienna - (Zurich?) - Paris. I think I might be insane. I picked each leg of the trip and was hoping to use the handy "reserve without paying option." However, I foolishly added a "discount card." Now, if I can use this card the way it seems to advertise, it would be a good deal, but by adding the card (for 85 euros!) I had to buy the whole package right away--and I wasn't prepared to do that. Now I'm back to square one. Boo. The whole ticket selecting exercise took over half an hour and I don't have the patience to to it all again and NOT add the discount card. I can't tell you how little I want to plan this trip, even though I am looking forward to it. I know, I know, poor me.

It's actually a little more traveling than I want to do but it makes sense to use this time to see places I want to see. It's not cheep--by train, about $650 for the whole trip. Then add in hostels and food for everything past Berlin (where I have a place to stay) and I'll be breaking $1,000 (for about 10 days). But it's worth it and still cheaper than a trip originating from the US.

I wish I could work up a little more enthusiasm for the trip. It seems silly to go otherwise.

Shopping

Possibly the oddest and most interesting thing left outside my window so far:

Grateful for: the sights.

Learning

What can I tell you about the last couple of days?

On Thursday, I met up with American friend, Peter, to do something typically touristy.

First, though, I went up to Montmartre to buy some yarn. Some people go there to see Sacre Coeur or to sightsee. Not me. I go there for the yarn. (As you may recall, I bought some yarn to finish my little sweater/shrug pattern last week. I started a new project with the remnants of that yarn and I was running out so I decided to get another skein to finish the new project.)

I have to say, I love this little area at the foot of Sacre Coeur--it's full of shops selling fabric by the meter, showing their wares on the sidewalk--big bolts of every kind of fabric imaginable. Sample dresses in windows. And buttons! I saw at least one shop where they only sold buttons. In case I need some, now I know where to go. Yarn is just an aside in a couple of the fabric shops--but it's not too expensive and it's better than nothing.

I'd gotten a late start and I missed the lunch hour. After getting my yarn, I sat in a café and drank an over-priced Perrier and tried to write a little. I succeed in writing a little.

Soon after that, I called Peter and we made plans to take a boat ride on the Seine--a super touristy thing that neither of us have done before. I walked down to the river from where I was. I was hungry but I made do with a sandwich along the way.

Peter was a little late but that gave me a chance to observe the small hoard of tourist waiting to board the boat. It was mostly families with children and a few couples. A lot of Italians and Spaniards, but a few Germans and Japanese tourists were in the mix.

After Peter arrived, we waited another 15 minutes for the next boat. It was just a boat ride, no commentary, so we chatted and tried to appreciate the scenery. We were under a Plexiglas canopy, though, so the view was slightly distorted. Before the end of the trip, we went to stand in the bow, which was uncovered and that was much better. I think I would have preferred a full tour, with narration, but this was ok. The best part was going under the bridges. One of them had a huge statue of a man on one of the supporting columns. We had no idea who it was! Another had a lot of those funny faces on the curve of the arch underneath roadway. This is stuff you cannot see from street level.

After we did the full boat-ride circuit, we found a bar and had a glass of wine. Peter called Dara and she invited us to her house for dinner (leftovers--but still!). We walked over to Dara's and she fed us. It is great to have a friend who cooks! I have cooked a little since I've been here--but my kitchen is tiny (two burners and no oven) and cooking is not my passion. I do appreciate it when others make the effort.

After dinner, we went to a nearby Brazilian bar for a drink. The bartender flirted with Peter (who isn't gay), and I told stories about my so-called love life. Dara and Peter teased me, and, in fact goaded me into sending a text to A. While I admit that they didn't force me, I wouldn't have done it except for their influence. Amusingly, A. did not receive the text until the NEXT night, at which time he responded promptly and told me there had been something wrong with his phone.

A little before 1:00am I got a little antsy and left to try and catch the metro. I just missed the last train--it was pulling out of the station as I got through the turnstiles. So irritating! I burned a ticket for nothing and the metro workers just shrugged their shoulders at me. Nice.

Back on the street, I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't want to take a cab and it would have been over an hour to walk. I decided to take the Velib, which was right there. I also texted Peter and Dara to let them know my predicament. I checked out a bike and headed home--in fact, I was able to navigate the route without consulting my map once. About twenty minutes into my ride (which lasted about half and hour), Peter called. He'd just gotten my message. We all chatted as I pedaled the rest of the way home--he passed the phone to Dara a few times. When I was back home, we said goodnight.

It took me a while to fall asleep, since I was more energized than tired out from the ride, but I did sleep well.

On Friday, I met Peter again to watch some Olympics in an ex-pat bar. We met a traveling American from Seattle and talked his ear off. I didn't drink much (one half pint--enough is enough!) but it was a miserable, rainy day and spending it inside, watching sports, was appropriate.

Unexpectedly, I spent the whole day with Peter. He's good fun to hang out with, but amount of alcohol he put away was truly astonishing. By 8pm, I was ready to call it a day. I was still tired from my late night on Thursday, so I grabbed a bus home and made an early-ish night of it.

At home, I heated up some leftovers for dinner. At 10:30pm, I received a text from A. when he finally received my text from the previous night. He saw that I was online, which led to a brief IM chat. Believe it or not, he was still at work. He claims it's not always like this--for his sake, I hope that's true. We didn't make plans, though we did chat a little about the "state of things." It was ok. I'm feeling fine about it and not an emotional basket case. It seems that the moment of clarity I had the other night is still serving me well. Interestingly, A. has some of the same concerns that I do, which is reassuring. In fact, while I'd like him to be all secretly in love with me (silly me!), he actually has about the same level of regard for me as I do for him. That is, we like each other, but neither of us sees a long-term future. But how could we? I'm leaving in mere months.

I'll admit that I could have lived without having this spelled out for me. In fact, I think I've known how he felt all along. And, luckily, I already figured out that I felt the same way, otherwise I'm afraid I might have been hurt. The open question is, do I want to continue to see him under these circumstances? My answer is a tentative yes. The test will be the next time we get together--will I be comfortable? Or will I be thinking about how he doesn't like me "enough"? I'll try and pay close attention to my gut and see if spending time with him actually makes me happy or if I'm just doing it because it seems like the thing to do. I hope it's clear that I don't think he's done anything wrong. He's been frank with me, in response to a conversation that I initiated (no matter how inadvertently). I just have to decide if I can take so much truth! You know how I like to operate in the world of illusion.

I wrote a long, rambling email to Pele about this and my conclusion was that my time in Paris is becoming the longest most expensive therapy session ever. It wasn't what I thought would happen but I think it's good. I'm confronting things that I don't think I've had the courage to face before--and that I've managed to avoid thinking about for years and years (despite some ongoing actual professional therapy!). It's hard but good and I'm going to try and glean the maximum educational benefit from my experiences. It's been years since I've felt like I learned anything in a relationship (other than that it was a mistake), so it's refreshing that I have become a student again in my life. It's about time.

Grateful for: some life lessons.

The plot

On Tuesday, I made plans with Dara to go to the movies. She invited Peter. I was out for a lot of the day but I made a quick dash home to eat dinner and check email. Dara had emailed a confirmation of the time we'd meet. I caught Pele online and we IM'd a little. I microwaved my dinner.

I could SEE A. on the IM. Argh. That killed me but I just continued to act like he didn't exist. I had other plans, after all.

The phone rang. It was the Brazilian guy. I know, I know, why did I give him my number? Basically, he was cute. I have no other explanation. He asked me to go for drinks that night. I said I was sorry, but I had other plans. We got off the phone.

Then A. IM'd. Ah ha! My evil plot of making other plans and passing out my numbers to strange men on the street was paying off. He wrote (after the preliminaries), "do you want to see me today?"

Well, huh, let me think about that…

In the end, we planned to meet late, after the movies.

Now, this is not an entirely satisfactory resolution. In fact, it's no resolution at all. However, it is confirmation that...hmm…that I'm not so undesirable that the person I'm dating would completely disappear without a trace? Gee, that's kind of a low standard, isn't it?

I will say this, while I enjoyed seeing A., I may be over worrying and feeling anxious about the whole thing (famous last words). No, I haven't turned into a new person, the kind of person who can casually take what she can get from someone who is only slightly available. I haven't changed from the person who builds castles in the air and makes a whole lot of something out of nothing.

But it became very clear to me that the something out of nothing I want is not going to happen with A.--and that I'm not even sure I want it to. That might have been the most surprising part of all. I could sort of see what I wanted and who I wanted it with--and it wasn't A.

I do like him. He is desirable in many ways. If he continues to contact me, I'll probably continue to see him (if it's convenient). I don't think I'll call him anymore, though. It is utterly pointless. Not once have I been able to initiate plans with him--not once! He seems pleased if I call (email, text, whatever), but he is NEVER free when I ask him to get together. Message received.

It's amazing how much my expectations have adjusted. I wonder how long this will last before the crazy comes back? Hmm, I should probably stop calling caring about people and having strong feelings "crazy." In this case, I think I piled a lot of stuff at A.'s feet that didn't have much to do with him. Seeing him did help clarify that, so if I did push to see him, and it helped me get here, I'm glad I did it. If I don't see him again? I'm sure I will care and I will be sad but I'm more certain than ever that I can weather it without too much more pain.

And, except for A., I think the dating moratorium commences now. Whew, that's a relief!

Grateful for: the calm.

This and that

A few things I failed to write about…

The other day, I went to an Asian place for a late lunch/early dinner. When I ordered, I pronounced something with an American accent and the waitress/owner (?), said, "Oh, you speak English?" Yes. Then she warned me that what I ordered was "not too hot, inside." I smiled and nodded and said that was fine. I had no idea what she was talking about. Was it that the dish was room temperature rather than piping hot? Not too spicy? When it came out, it seemed sufficiently warm and not spicy at all. Who knows what she meant but the dish was about what I expected.

Also, I said no to a guy. Yes, it does happen. As you may recall, I briefly had a small collection of French suitors. One of these guys was still calling me. I didn't dislike him but I knew he wasn't for me. I stopped answering the phone when he called but he didn't stop calling. I was IMing with Pele last week when he called again. She said I needed to answer the phone and tell him I wasn't interested. I said I wasn't sure how to convey that message in French (he has a little bit of English, but not much). She said I could tell him I wasn't interested and that I've met someone and she gave me these words, "Vous êtes gentil, mais je ne suis pas intéressé par la datation vous. Sans compter que moi ai rencontré l'amour de ma vie."

I took exception to the phrase, "l'amour de ma vie."

Pele wrote, "It's very French to say l'amour de ma vie."

Perhaps, but not very me. Not long after, the guy called again. He asked if I wanted to meet him that evening and I said I couldn't. He asked if he could call me later…or if I'd want to meet another time and I said I didn't think so. Long pause. He asked (in French) if I'd met someone else. Good job random French guy! I said, "Yes." And that was that.

It was a good thing I answered the phone because the very next day on my way to the metro I ran into him! If I hadn't bothered to talk to him, imagine how much more awkward it would have been (don't worry, it was sufficiently awkward).

That's about it. Yesterday, I hung around the house in the morning (per usual) and took care of some business. I took a long walk. I stopped for a coffee and read for a while. I walked some more and I went to the movies. After, I called A. We did not get together--his excuse: work. He said he'd call the next day (right). I wasn't surprised and I was barely disappointed.

I got a beer (my first out in weeks) and wrote a little sitting at a pub-style bar. I took a train about halfway home and walked the rest of the way. On this walk, I caught the eye of a guy, not intentionally--it's an American habit. Well, in France, I've found that if I make eye contact with a guy, break it and then look back, he'll smile and say something. If I continue to retain eye contact, he will approach me. Basically, that's what happened last night, except I made eye contact with a different guy than the one who talked to me. (I'm not kidding! The rival guy actually walked back and forth in front of me and the other guy a few times. Yeesh.)

Anyway, the guy spoke English, he's from Brazil and he was working it. He asked me what I thought of him and I said he was nice looking and he was an operator. I have every confidence that he didn't understand what I meant. He wanted to explain a lot of things to me about attraction. So much so that I actually said, "I've been doing this quite a while and I know exactly what you're talking about. You don't have to explain it to me." It occurred to me that he must have thought I was quite a lot younger than I am to think this was the right approach. Or maybe it's his only approach.

During this conversation, I got progressively sadder. How is it that being hit on by a fairly attractive guy made me miss A. more than ever? If I didn't have an enormous amount of self-restraint or pride, I would have called A. as soon as I walked away from my Brazilian lothario. But, I didn't. Instead, I called Pele. Unfortunately, she was on the run and only had five minutes to talk. Can you imagine? She has her own crises to deal with! Then I called Spesh, who is only one time zone away.

Talking to Spesh was incredibly helpful. He was kind and understanding (and probably embarrassed now if he happens to be reading this). The problem with the kind of emotional crisis I experienced is that it feels as bad as something serious (like, oh, a death in the family) but, objectively, it isn't. I mean, what had happened? Someone I'm casually dating hasn't been in close touch. That's it. No one said anything unkind, he didn't break up with me, and there's a good chance that I'll see him again. Yes, he's blowing me off. Yes, it's quite likely that our engagement is near its end, but it's hardly tragic. Nevertheless, I had a full-blown, pure misery reaction. I hurt.

But, Spesh was good, he didn't give me a hard time about it and we talked it through (though we skipped the details--these problems are always the same and there's no point hashing through every word of every conversation). He said, "You know what the problem is--either he likes you too much or not enough." Indeed. He started to tell me what to do, but I interrupted. "I know what to do: stop waiting. But I don't know how to do it."

Then we talked about other things. I managed to laugh and smile and I started to feel better. Spesh encouraged me to do more writing about anything but particularly about Paris. He wondered if the blog was helpful or not in terms of doing other kinds of writing. He also said that worse writers than me make money doing it--and even make a living writing. (I was very flattered.) Then again, those people are probably more productive than me and actually know how to market their writing.

Before I went to sleep, I felt calm and collected. I knew what I needed to do and I felt like I could do it. I fully intend to go about my business (such as it is) as though I live in a world where A. does not exist. (Sigh.) To that end, I made plans with American friend, Dara, to see a movie tonight. Thereby almost guaranteeing that A. will call. (Sigh.)

I also may just take a break from dating. It seems to be about time.

Grateful for: strong feelings.

Roller

More fun with visuals. On Friday, at Dara's, we saw a huge number of people roller blading down the street. Apparently, this is a regular thing and they go all over the city! I was only able to catch the tail end of it in the video. (The voice is NOT mine.)

Words AND Pictures

I know you don't want to read about how I'm slowly losing my mind over a fictional relationship (well, it's more real than some of the relationships I've had over the last year or so--this one does have some basis in reality, at least), so how about some pictures?

I know! Pictures! Awesome!

Saturday and today I carried my camera around with me. I've started taking pictures of bakeries; perhaps it will be a series (famous last words).

Oh, I also talked to my dad today. He asked if I were still going to a lot of movies and when I said yes he said, "You didn't need to go to Paris for that...or..." and then he kind of trailed off, realizing that maybe it wasn't such a politic statement. I told him Paris is actually a great place to see all kinds of obscure films you never get to see in the states. Dad also tried to get some more details about A. from me (my own fault for mentioning him). What could I say? "I haven't talked to A. in three days and may never again and I'm feeling a little ill about it, which means I'll call/text/email him and probably drag things out a little longer...but then again he's probably just busy with work and we don't make a habit of chatting on the phone (which is prohibitively expensive for me on my cell phone anyway, if I do the calling), so he'll call when he's free and would like to see me. And until today, I'd managed to calm down about it and keep myself busy but today is not going so well." No, I didn't say that, instead I said, "It's casual, which is fine, except I don't seem to be equipped to deal with anything casual." Which at least got an understanding chuckle from Dad.

Anyway, Dad asked if there were some way to turn my passion (for seeing movies) into something remunerative. I said I had no idea but that if he did, I'm open to suggestions. You all can let me know too. But, see, I tried to start writing those little movie reviews and I haven't kept it up. Why not? Why not now? It's not like I have anything else pressing to do. I mean, I'm SURE I could fit in moping about a boy with a tiny little bit of writing about movies. Oh sigh. Why am I so pathetic?

Hah. Fooled you! (Fooled me is more like it.) How could you think I wouldn't write about my angst? But, here are pictures! Hooray!



Procession through the streets of Paris celebrating the Assumption.



Here's the Silver Mary they were accompanying.

I broke off with the procession at this point and walked down to the banks of the Seine. Currently, "Paris Plage" is happening, which is a beach like atmosphere by the Seine--it's a couple of steps from beach-like, actually (it's a fake-fake beach, if you will), nevertheless, it's quite popular and crowded.


A misting station--necessary because the beach has river views but has no actual access to water.



Some of the crowd on the "beach."



Taking advantage of the light.



In case of emergency, visit the red box.



People love this place! (Except for the lady in the bottom of the frame
who seems to have noticed I was taking her picture. Sorry lady!)




More help if you need it. Never let it be said that the French are not prepared.


Last, one of my bakery shots. Do you want more? Do you want pics of the actual bread and pastries (I don't know if I can pull that off!)?



Finally, I haven't lost my mind yet. I did text you-know-who and got a friendly response. I was all ready to have a talk with him but I didn't much trust myself...who knows what I would have said? None of it would have made much sense, that's for sure. Instead, I got confirmation that he was working and a tentative (sigh) plan for tomorrow night. I'm not saying I don't still feel pathetic, but at least I'm a lot calmer than I was earlier today. Oh well, baby steps.

Grateful for: one step forward.

© Grateful Dating

More damage

This time, it was social damage.

Thursday evening, I called my old French teacher, Pauline, to see if she wanted to go to the movies. We made a plan to meet on Friday at the theater. I arrived at the appointed time, 4:30pm, and waited. And waited. I waited for about 20 minutes, missed the movie, and she never arrived. It's obvious in retrospect that I should have called her but for whatever reason, I didn't. I'd also invited my American friend, Dara, to join us. Dara couldn't make it, but asked me to dinner at her place around 8pm.

I decided that instead of going home, I'd have a coffee and read for a while and walk along to Dara's place. I sat in a café for about an hour and then walked down to the Seine. Friday was a holiday here (the Assumption) and I got caught up in a procession honoring Mary. It was quite a scene. The police, who followed behind the marchers, blocked the streets. A van with loudspeakers on top moved slowly in the middle of the crowd. A priest inside sang out hymns and prayers and the crowed sang or chanted along in the appropriate places.

I crossed a bridge with the crowd and took a few pictures. I was hungry and needed a snack. I picked up a mini-quiche in a little bakery on the Ile St-Louis and crossed to the other side of the Seine on my own. Paris Plage was in full swing down below, so I found a spot in the sun to sit and eat.

At 6:30pm, my phone rang. It was Pauline. She was at the movie theater. She thought we were going to the 7pm show. Um, whoops. I tried to explain that I'd been there earlier. She asked why I didn't call. I had no answer (in any language). I also tried to explain that I had to meet someone later and couldn't go to the movie now. I guess she understood and eventually she said she was going to the movie. I said ok. Boy, did I feel bad. I'd thought about trying to do everything and the timing just wasn't right. Maybe I should have invited her to Dara's? Maybe I should have called Dara and asked if it were ok to come over very late (10?)? (It turns out, it probably would have been fine, but it didn't seem right.)

I hope I can still make a friendship with Pauline work. I feel terrible about what happened. I just didn't know how to explain myself in French. No one was in the wrong; it was clearly a misunderstanding. I knew she wouldn't stand me up--it's not her style. I should have called and why I didn't--I wish I could understand it myself. Sigh.

Anyway, the walk to Dara's was pleasant and I arrived after taking another reading break. I got to her door a little after 8pm and kept her company during the dinner prep part of the evening. Her other guest, Peter, (I know him too) arrived quite late--after 9?--so I really should have met Pauline. Oh well.

Dara is a good cook and made an enormous amount of Chinese food. Delicious! Apparently, Dara had mentioned A. to Peter and when we were talking alone on the terrace he said, "Dara tells me you have a boy!"

I was a little embarrassed. Do I have a boy (or a man) or a date or anything? I have no idea. I last talked to A. on Wednesday. I was going to a happy hour in his neighborhood and I asked if he wanted to get together after. I sent him a text and he called in return. We chatted briefly (he was busy) and that's the last time we were in contact. I am trying not to think about it. I was feeling super anxious about everything this week and I sent a somewhat desperate sounding email to Nancy. She responded with a little (much needed) tough love.

I am well aware that I am slipping into my normal pattern, even though the circumstances don't warrant it. I don't even particularly want a boyfriend. Nevertheless, I met A. and I shifted into my normal needy anxious pattern. A couple of things Nancy said hit home, in particular that I'm looking for validation. It's true--but I have no idea why. Validation from A. would mean nothing. We don't know each other very well so, even though I like him a lot, just exactly how could he validate me? Of course, this has to come from within--and 100% of the time I'm not dating anyone, I manage fine to feel happy and self-confident with only moderate amounts of external validation from family and friends.

Nancy was worried about hurting my feelings, but what she wrote wasn't too hard to take (she also said a lot of very nice things). It helped open my eyes. I could see myself slipping into this pattern and I could feel myself start to push A. He's not the love of my life. He is not going to be my life partner or the father of my children. But is he is someone who I've had fun with and would like to see again. In a sense, because I know that this is a casual relationship (in the sense that I don't anticipate a future), I feel even more anxious. I still want those other things and by having (perhaps!) something that falls quite a bit short of that, the contrast, the lack is brought clearly to the forefront. Or maybe I'm just crazy.

For the past couple of days, when I find myself drift into my old patterns of negative thinking and anxious worrying about whether I'll ever hear from this particular person again, I tell myself: you don't need him for validation, that comes from inside. It comes from inside. And then, I pull it out. I smile. I look around and I can see all the good things happening in the world and all the good things about myself. And, really, isn't the fact that A. and I have already spent happy times together validation enough? I always want more; I will always want more. I will learn to be content with what I can get.

I have spent way too much time sitting in the house the last couple of days. I did finish knitting my little sweater/shrug. I showed it to Dara and she said it was fashionable--apparently this type of garment is popular these days. I said, "It's not really my style." She said, "But it is in style." I'm not sure if I'll wear it or not, but it did add just the right amount of warmth on a cool-ish summer evening. The fit isn't perfect but after a wash and block, I think it will improve. I am ready to make a real sweater…soon. Oh, and I'm definitely contemplating getting out of the house today. Soon, very soon.

Grateful for: figuring things out.

Damage

This morning I woke up to the sound of rain. When I looked out the window, I found it wasn't raining at all. Rather, someone was rather overenthusiastically watering the plants a floor or two above my window.

Yesterday, I heard from my step-sister, who is in Paris for a vacation with her family. They were making a dash to the Musee d'Orsay and invited me along. Running late as usually, I got to the museum past our meeting time and found a huge, snaking line. It was hot and sunny and I actually used my umbrella as a parasol (I wasn't the only one, which gave me the courage to take such action). Eventually, she called me. They were inside and were going to have lunch and I should just meet them in the café.

As it turned out, they were seated just as I got inside the museum. Perfect. It was great to see them--and the museum.

I haven't been to any of the major museums yet and the d'Orsay is certainly one of the best. I had vague memories of it from lo those many years ago when I first came to Paris and it did not disappoint. It was very crowded but large enough that it was possible to move around without too much trouble. I will have to go back later and take some more time to focus on my favorite things, but it's very hard to go wrong in the Impressionists section.

After a few hours there, we were all beat. They went along home and so did I. It might be the only time we get together, which is a shame, but what can you do?

I had some vague ambitions about going out, but I was very tired--due to all the standing and not enough sleep on Monday, so I just hung around the house. I had yet another domestic misadventure. I'd heated up a little something for dinner. I set a tray down on the sofa with a glass of water and the bowl with my dinner. Somehow, I put them too close to the edge of the sofa and the whole mess slipped to the tile floor and broke.

I probably would have been spared the breakage if I'd had the throw rug in it's usual place. Instead, it was drying on the radiator because a few days ago I spilled coffee on it. I did some stain management, but it still needed to go to the laundry. It was probably easier to clean the tile floor than the rug, but a rug would have cushioned the blow.

This morning, I decided it was time to wash the rug and get it back in place. I threw it in the washer with my bathmat and a few other items. The bathmat is orange and the formerly white rug is now a nice shade of peach. Whoops. What was I thinking?

I'm getting out of the house now before I do any more damage.

Grateful for: hopefully understanding landlords.

Same old

Why haven't I written: because things are going well. Or relatively well and I feel odd about getting back to the regular swing of things when people in my family are going to be a long time getting there. I don't want to sound flip or frivolous...and I know that's not my style, but I still worry (which is my style).

The last few days have been a bit of a roller coaster emotionally, due to both the family stuff and boy stuff. The boy stuff is more of the kiddie-coaster variety, though, and overall, I'm enjoying myself.

I was feeling bad because I thought I had plans with the fellow I'm spending time with (let's give him a name, shall we?), A. We saw each other on Tuesday for coffee and made tentative plans for Wednesday. I also had a tentative plan on Wednesday to meet my conversation buddy. In the early afternoon I called A. to find out when he wanted to meet--he hemmed and hawed and finally said he had a new project at work and didn't know when he'd be free. This led to almost complete silence on my part. I wasn't angry, just disappointed. Eventually, he asked if we could get together on Thursday and said he would call.

I went about my business and met my conversation buddy on Wednesday. On Thursday, I planned a full day and kept myself busy. A. didn't call. I felt bad. Not crushed, exactly, just a little heavy with the sadness. In my mind, I was sure that was it, I wasn't going to hear from him again (Pele told me I was wrong). Easy enough, he'd said he would call, he didn't, and I wasn't going to call him. I hate the idea of pressing myself, pushing, and I wasn't going to act that way. Whatever is going on is of the not-too-serious variety, so there is no need for explanations and I had no stomach for demanding them. I told myself, whatever it is, it's about him, not me. I was also pretty sure it was work. If he just got a new project on Wednesday, how would be done on Thursday?

I fully expected to wake up on Friday feeling 100% better and not sad at all. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. I was dragging a bit, feeling tired and lazy. I decided to get myself a real lunch, and it was decent. I made plans for Saturday with my American friend. I confirmed with myself my intention of meeting a group for an open-air movie in the evening. I sent a long email to Pele. Then he called.

What? I didn't really get it, weren't we done? Oh, no. He invited me for coffee right then--he needed a break from work. I agreed, but he noticed my lack of enthusiasm. I said, "You didn't call." I got a non-apology and then an actual apology and then I went to see him. I brought my blanket and snacks, fully intending to go to the open-air movie after leaving him. I was pretty sure I wanted to have a talk with him about this not calling business. It's always the waiting that kills me. Eventually, I did say something and he clearly felt bad and sincerely apologized. I suppose this means we won't make too many advance plans, but I tell you, that is much easier to deal with than waiting around for calls and being disappointed by canceled plans. (Am I settling? I suppose.)

After a couple of hours together, I went along to my movie. It was freezing! But I stayed for the first show and then toddled on home.

On Saturday, I took a long walk and met my friend for the movies. We sat a café for a long time afterwards and talked, ate and drank. How nice to actually talk to someone in person about everything going on with me. She's great and was very patient with me. Don't worry, I did let her do some talking.

Interestingly, while we were in the movies, I got a message from my old French teacher. Remember her? I called her back on Sunday and we went to the movies that night! Now I'm sure I'll see her again too. While it's a bit of a challenge hanging out with her (I keep up a dialogue in my broken French), she's very sweet. I'm so happy she called. I'd just been thinking about her.

On Sunday morning, I called A. I caught him just as he was waking up. He had maybe an hour to spend before he had to go to work (darn work!), but I declined. It was a good thing I ended up with other plans that evening, or I might have stayed home all day. My lethargy was high this weekend.

Monday, I got this idea about going to the big flea market north of the city. So I went. I got a slow start, but I was out of the house by 10:30am. The market was semi-open--maybe about half the stalls. I got a sense of it and there were no crowds, so that worked. I also planned to take a long walk back into the center and stop by a yarn store. I'm working on this little shrug/sweater and I'm afraid I'm going to run out of yarn before I finish. I probably can't match the yarn I'm using, but I could use something complementary for the finishing trim.

I walked and walked and before long, I stopped for coffee. I ordered my usual, a "café noisette." Somehow this was translated to a "café" and a "noisette". Seriously, the lady came to my table holding two cups of coffee. The astonished look on my face informed her of the mistake, though she admitted no error. In the end, she gave me the noisette and took the other cup away. Yeesh. When a man at the bar blew a kiss at me, I knew it was time to leave.

I walked some more and found an open bakery and bought a sandwich. Then I found a park and sat and ate my enormous sandwich and drank a diet coke. I read my book and watch a couple of kids playing, a couple canoodling and a few other adults lunching.

I continued my walk, which led me past Sacre Coeur and towards the yarn store. The first place I went into had a lot of yarn, but none of the same weight as my work-in-progress. I'd brought a sample with me and when the proprietress asked me what I wanted, I showed it to her and asked if she had anything similar. She said, "non." And that was it!

I continued along and noticed another store almost across the street with all kinds of crafty stuff. I stopped in and found loads of yarn. I chose something that didn't quite match, but bought it anyway, just in case.

I decided to keep walking even though I was starting to get a little tired. Not too much to my surprise, I found myself approaching A.'s neighborhood. I had to decide if I would call him. I couldn't decide. I texted Pele. I talked myself through it. I reminded myself of something Nancy told me long ago about another boy, "you have to give him a chance to call." Finally, when I was merely blocks from A.'s place, I started to feel like a stalker. That made it easy to decide to get on the Metro and go home.

And guess what? That very evening, A. called and asked if I wanted to get together. It's crazy, but I was still surprised.

We did get together, but only for a couple of hours because he had to work through the night. (He's a freelancer and works when there's work--and there's a lot right now.) We didn't make plans. Did I want to? Sort of, but it's best to keep expectations low, especially since he doesn't know his schedule and I'm not good at weathering any kind of disappointment. Plus, I am flexible and can see him whenever. I also want to pat myself on the back for keeping busy (more or less) and not putting the rest of my life on hold while I wait for a man. I don't want to say I'm sure I'll see him again, but I'm sure enough. I don't know how long I can sustain this kind of relationship without wanting more or getting frustrated, but if I’m unhappy, I'll talk to him or I'll get out, which ever seems appropriate.

And today, the plan? Well, I will to do some laundry (I spilled coffee on the cotton throw rug that came with the apartment and my spot treatment was only partially successful), go to the movies and do some writing (that's right now!). The other writing, I have been thinking a lot about it and writing in my notebook. I'm trying to get a handle on what kind of story I want to tell. I'd started with a romantic story, but dredging up some of those old feelings was painful. The writing is supposed to be a pleasure, so I tried to think about the stories I really like to tell. It's funny how some stories are more fun to tell than to write. It occurred to me that I've never written any of the stories I tell about my childhood, so I thought I might start there. I'm still thinking and haven't started, but it's something.

I also have the addresses for the condolence letters I need to send. Time to get those into final draft. Sigh.

Grateful for: new friends.

Moving

First, thank you all so much for your kind and thoughtful comments. It's times like this that my virtual network of friends is so valuable. While I can feel at loose ends during this time, I felt like that many times back in DC. Emotionally, I was really hit by my cousin's death. It's the suddenness, of course, and the empathy I feel for her closer relatives. This heightens my urge to connect with someone and thus I reached out to that certain person--which was fine. Then, I get all my feelings mixed up: why am I sad? Because plans were canceled (that happened yesterday)? Or because of the loss to my family?

Pele quite rightly advised me to compartmentalize. It's good advice and very hard to follow. I am not good at compartmentalizing; all my feelings slop over and muddy things up. I figure I'm not alone in this.

I am good at avoiding. When I first read the email about Catherine, I wanted to sleep. I told my mother and she said it was a good instinct. I don't know why. Now, I have to write some condolence letters. I know that I just have to sit down and write. I'll find the words. I have written several such letters, sadly, and somehow I can manage to say the right thing--even when I didn't know the person who died (I'm thinking of when a friend's mother died). You don't have to say much, usually. In this case, I should say more. The prospect is daunting.

Today, I'd planned to go on a field trip to see a Gothic cathedral in a town about an hour train ride from Paris. However, I slept and slept and didn't wake up until 10am. Then I puttered and puttered and it's too late for the trip now. Well, it's not too late, but it would be silly to make the trip for such a short time. I'll go tomorrow. Plenty of time. Getting moving would be good.

Yesterday I did those mundane tasks that are so essential to the forward momentum of life. When I first got here, I enjoyed these tasks. I still look forward to them because they give a structure to the day. I did my laundry, did a little grocery shopping and bought a light bulb (I had to visit three stores to find the right one!). I came home and hung up the laundry, did some knitting and then went to visit my conversation buddy. Oddly, I didn't tell him about my cousin. I don't know why I choose to share with some people and not others.

Sadly, I seem completely incapable of having even a simple conversation in French. But I can feel good about giving my buddy a chance to practice his English. He did speak to me in French but I could not catch the flow of what he was saying. Yeesh.

After, I went to a movie. A terrible, terrible movie: Surveillance. Awful, creepy, violent, cruel with seemingly no redeeming purpose at all. I don't get it. I don't understand this kind of movie. Why? What is the point? You learn nothing, have nothing to think about after and it's not funny or entertaining. I guess the performances were good, but so what? Ugh.

What about a nice, lightweight comedy? I could use a little of that right now. Not a single new one seems to be playing. Unbelievable!

Luckily, I'm in Paris and I can find an older comedy, my favorite kind, in fact. So, in lieu of my out of town field trip, this is what I'll do today:

• Get ready to leave the house.
• Leave the house and walk to a museum (I'm going to try the Musée Zadkine).
• Pick up lunch there or on the way.
• (Oh, I bought cereal the other day and ate it with some ridiculously rich milk this morning. I don't know when cereal has ever tasted so good. Also, the way the box reseals? Completely unlike the way we do it in the States. I have to take a picture.)
• Tour the museum.
• Sit in a café and do some writing--letters first, then some free-writing at Nancy's suggestion, if I'm so moved.
• Walk to the movie theater and see my comedy (Fifth Avenue Girl--with Ginger Rogers, one of my favorites.)
• Eat something sometime. (I have enough food at home for dinner, so if I go to an early show, I'll cook at home tonight.)
• Sleep. Get up early enough to go on my field trip on Friday.

The end.

Grateful for: routine and excellent friends.

Catherine

Last night, I received an email from my father letting me know that my cousin, Catherine, died suddenly and completely unexpectedly. He wrote, "She complained of not feeling well, lay down and died. No one knows the cause yet."

I'm completely shocked. I wasn't close to Catherine but I've known her all my life. She's quite a bit older than me (17 years or so) and has three grown children. Catherine was living in Oregon, married happily (I hope) to her second husband. Her eldest daughter, Helen, is getting married in September. How terrible for the family. Her youngest daughter is just out of college.

When I got the email, I didn't want to believe it. Instead of feeling sad, I was irritated that my father hadn't called. I should have called him right then but I couldn't do it. I should have called my mother--to tell her and to have someone to talk to, but I didn't do that either. Instead, I tried not to think about it. I hoped that when I woke up, the email would be gone--that it would just be a bad dream.

How could this happen? How can an otherwise healthy woman just lay down and die? In my mind, Catherine is still young. She always had a youthful appearance and she was a very pretty woman. It's funny to think that she was in her mid- to late-fifties. I'm sure she still looked young--that was Catherine.

And what about Helen and her wedding plans? A wedding with an absent parent is the saddest thing in the world, even if it's years later. Will this wedding go on in just a month's time? Poor Helen. If I feel confused and guilty, how must she feel? Not only does she have to mourn a parent but she has to decide what to do about her wedding.

A death like this makes you question everything about your life. I feel like a trivial person living out a trivial fantasy. I'm not even taking full advantage of my time here. I'm wandering, occupying myself with a search for friends, going to movies, dating (dating!), and not writing. I have no focus, no purpose, no sense of what I should be doing. Yes, I wanted to float. That seems so foolish now. Time is precious and short and life is so unpredictable. It's a gift to have any time without purpose…and I feel selfish for squandering mine.

My first instinct is to return to the States for the funeral but it's completely impractical. The town where Catherine lived in Oregon is small and remote. I priced a ticket to Seattle at $1800, leaving tomorrow, which would probably be too late to make it to the funeral. I don't have to go, I don't think anyone would expect it. But if I were in DC now, I would go, no question. I would go because it's the right thing to do.

It seems strange to be this sad over the death of a person I didn't know well, was never close to and hadn't seen in years. Is it self-indulgent? We weren't close, but I love her kids and she is my family. Always.

(After I wrote this, I took a walk to a park and I couldn't stop feeling sad. I sent a text to the "certain person" from the last post, "I got some bad news from home and I could use some company." He called within minutes. When I told him about Catherine, my voice almost broke. Talking about it make it more real and even harder to comprehend. We're going to have coffee. I feel like a fool but company is what I need. I don't know what else to do.)

Grateful for: family.

Holland highlights

Visit to German town of Muenster. My first "feet-on-the-ground" experience in Germany (previous visits were to the Frankfurt airport only). The town was lovely and full of several fine old churches. We walked, ate, paddled in a paddle-boat. Most amusing moment was on the train ride there. A German teenager heard me speaking English and sat down next to me and asked where I was from--she was most delighted to hear I was from the US. She'd returned two weeks earlier from a year abroad in Rochester NY. She talked and talked. I smiled and answered while Piet looked on, amused (I presume). I have never been so enthusiastically greeted purely on the basis of being American before. I said, "See, Europeans do like Americans!" Piet replied, "Who said they didn't?"

The rest of my stay in Piet's city was occupied with domestic endeavors. I did manage to buy a pair of shoes, so that desire is sated (for the time being).

On the return trip, I routed myself through LaMa's town. He met me at the train station and toured me all around. The weather was not the most cooperative but I didn't mind the damp. The town is lovely and I'm very glad I had a chance to see it. Much more interesting, of course, was meeting someone who I've only known as an internet presence. We got along well (perhaps I was a little too chatty?) and I'd say our visit was a success. Thank you to LaMa for being such a fantastic host!

The rest of the journey back to Paris was uneventful. I got home at the expected hour and managed to get my first good night's sleep in about a week. Well, it wasn't perfectly good because I was awoken by a middle-of-the-night text from a certain person. However, I didn't mind, and I was able to fall asleep again with no ill effects.

Let's see--I don't have much to say about this "certain person" because I'm not sure what our…I was going to say, "future holds," but the real problem is the "our." We met before I left for Holland and things were good. We saw each other yesterday, but I don't know if we'll meet again. If we do, maybe there'll be a bit more "us" but I'd put the odds at 50/50. Honestly, I don't know what I want from him. It's the strangest feeling. The time I've spent with him has been very good. I like him. But…if it doesn't turn out to be "more" I don't think I'll be heartbroken. I'm not even sure I'll be sad. I can't explain it.

(My ambivalence may be explained by the bad news I received last night, but I'm not sure…details in the next post.)

(By the way, this isn't the French professor-type I mentioned recently. That guy turned out to be separating from his long-time partner. Essentially, he's separated-but-not-divorced but without the formality of marriage. He also has four young children. I don't plan to see him again.)

Grateful for: friends.

Holland

I wasn't counting on posting, but I am sleeping in a room with a computer, so I figured I'd take a couple of minutes to update.

I have to say, it's funny to see friends who had no kids the last time you saw them who now live in a house full of toys. It's great, really. I like toys! The kids are adorable (no surprise), but there is a language barrier with the older one, who is near three. (The younger one is ten months and isn't talking yet, so we communicate perfectly.) I realized a few days before I left that she probably wouldn't speak English. Somehow, we work it out, though. I speak to her in English, she speaks to me in Dutch. Sometimes I know exactly what she's saying (it's all about context) and sometimes her father translates. With all the kiddie books around, I'm learning a tiny bit of Dutch but it's unlikely that any of it will stick. It's also funny to hear my friends, Katrin and Piet, the parents, speaking so much Dutch. All the other time we've spent together, I've only heard them speak English--even to each other.

Yesterday was Piet's day home with the children, so I hung around with him. He apologized a few times for it being boring--but I enjoyed myself. We took a little bike ride to a nearby windmill. That was something--Piet transported both kids on his bike! One upfront on a little seat attached to the front steering column and the other (the baby) in a trailer behind the bike. I had my own bike (Katrin's second bike!) and felt a little bad for getting the better end of the bargain.

I am still amazed by the bike culture here. In every single town there are dedicated bikeways (fietspad) and in heavily trafficked areas, even in Piet's smallish-town, traffic signals just for the bikes. Paris is ok but Holland really is bike heaven.

We had great weather the first two days, but today it's raining. Piet suggested that we go to a small town in Germany, since we're near the border, and I think we'll still go, despite the rain.

I have to stop writing now because this room is getting a little muggy and it's time for a shower! I'll be sure to update sooner or later...but probably later.

Grateful for: communication.