I don’t remember where I was going but I remember a hot bus ride and no available seats. Yup, I was just traipsing around all over the city by now!

I was wearing a bubblegum pink miniskirt, an oversized men’s shirt, a bowed headband, frosted pink lipstick, button earrings, and white Keds with cuffed socks. It was the 80’s … bite me!

I got off the bus at my stop and two young men jumped off after me. One ran up to me and, very animatedly, started talking to me in French while pointing to his friend. I just simply said:

“Anglais.” (Okay, I guess I knew one other French word.)

That’s when Thibault stepped up. Speaking English with an amazing French accent, the gorgeous, tall, light-eyed, blonde Parisian told me that he wanted to walk with me. A perfect wingman, his friend vanished into thin air and I spent the whole day with Thibault.

He took me to several off-the-beaten-path sights and I remember laughing and spending a lot of time trying to understand each other. He asked many questions about America and Americans in general.

His English was phenomenal but I roared with laughter when he called it “sticklips” instead of lipstick. He parallel parked like a maniac, forcing his car in between two others by bumping and pushing with his car until all three cars were literally connected bumper to bumper to bumper.

We ended up back at his apartment where he cooked dinner and served me my first glass of wine. His apartment had an amazing view of the Eiffel Tower and I was looking out across the city when he walked up from behind and put his arms around me. I took a breath and turned around to face him, knowing exactly what was happening. He never took his eyes off mine as he unbuttoned my shirt …

Okay, that last part is fiction but everything else is true.

As much as I’d love to write about a beautiful, fleeting foreign affair, it didn’t happen. He was sweet and that is the end of it. Considering the toxic relationship I got into when I got back to the states, I sincerely wish I’d had a fling!

It is a good memory and, as a 51 year old with a more jaded view of this world, I am glad for the experience that didn’t end with my dismemberment, rape, or human trafficking.

[End of Part 5 of 7]