Dating notes: Heat and Guilhem and walking through radiance
Guilhem wins the dating contest this week because Brian, with whom I was supposed to dine on Tuesday, completely forgot that he had set up this date with me. I had texted him Monday confirming the restaurant reservation and he texted me back apologizing for this going off his radar and that he needed to move the date because he was signing the lease for his new flat that evening.
I found this very hurtful (who forgots a date with me?) and then I remembered this was exactly the reason I stopped investing in "flakey Brian" after a few dates during our first iteration.
So that opened the door to Guilhem, who not only confirmed our dancing date for Wednesday (and he had had 3 weeks plus a week of vacation to forget it) but expressed much excitement at seeing me for this evening.
So that made me happy and turned me off Brian quite a bit. Whatever his dating issues are, they are his, they are not mine and have nothing to do with me. It is unfortunate because everything else is there, well except for sex!- but sorry no, this is not going to be a fully-facetted thing ever. I will, however, go out with him at his initiative but I won't be "reminding" him of dates he sets up with me and then doesn't follow up on. Hello bad grammar.
(Our date is tonight, which does not make me thrilled because I have had 2 hours of sleep and am very cranky and a bit hungover.)
So! Let's talk about sexy sweet Guilhem. Again, it was unbearably hot last night, 100 degrees F at 9:30pm when we met up. We were to meet at the club but I texted him to meet me at Shakespeare and Company which is adjacent to the club. I wanted to get him a copy of a book I wrote a couple of chapters of, "Love à La Française", but it is now out of print. I have some copies out in Normandy so I'll bring him one up the next time I'm there. Anyway, he shows up, we kiss, we walk over to the club and sweat is already forming on my legs and his cheeks. This kind of heat should not be allowed.
Fortunately there was some air in the club. He gets me a glass of champagne and himself a Get27 (summer drink men seem to like; I think it tastes of toothpaste) and we celebrate my being on vacation and his returning from a week in the south of France were he did all sorts of manly activities like hang gliding, kayaking and other sports. He read a book and recommended it to me and we talked of the southern writers, Jean Giono, Pagnol etc. I love that this young kid is literate.
We descend into the cellar where the band is in full swing. Caveau de la Huchette is known for bebop, swing dancing and only that. A lot of pros come to show off their skills and there were two couples on the dancefloor, the guys dressed in zoot suits and the women in outfits that would have been appropriate for WWII Victory dancing. They were amazing to watch. The effect however is that one (me) is too intimidated to dance. But Guilhem loves to move so he said let's watch and do what they do. I told him no, I am too embarassed and really this isn't my kind of dancing (I thought perhaps the group would not play swing but stick to the style we had heard the night we first saw them.) Ultimately Guilhem won, and we got onto the dancefloor and just improvised. After a couple of dances we did get a bit better but really, the steps to swing are strictly dictated and you really can't just play it by ear. Still, it was nice to be in his arms and smell his lovely scent and just have him all around me.
Let's cut to: after an hour there, Guilhem said he just couldn't stand the heat anymore and let's go outside. His shirt was soaked, his head was dripping, and I had a glow certainly. We got another drink and then went out to the street where it was still 100 degrees but whatever.
I had brought the weed he had left me the last time and took it out, asking him to roll us a joint. His eyes opened wide and told me to be more discreet; this area of the Latin Quarter was heavily patroled and we could get fined. OK, what do I know? I'm a weed neophyte. He discreetly rolls us a joint and we smoke. We talked about books, love, his PNL sessions where he is working some life patterns out, my therapy, my former relationship---I rarely talk about Phil with Guilhem because it just doesn't seem appropriate--but as usual, our conversation just flowed very naturally. Goddammit! If only he were 20 years older.
But he isn't and I was struck again at how this probably isn't a great idea for me to continue with; someone might get hurt and possibly him because he is someone who loves deeply and with great passion. So I need to step lightly here because a human and a human heart is involved.
Guilhem suggests we walk around---it's midnight by now and still 100 fucking degrees but the streets are emptying and only the Parisian youth is out, spilling out of the cafés and clubs.
This is where the evening just gets magnificent. Really. If I never see Guilhem again (just imagining; this isn't likely), I will always remember this boy with enormous fondness because walking, talking, and kissing him in This Paris, This Paris of heat and night and an almost-full moon, well...this pretty much constitutes My Perfect Date. Truly, the evening had everything: an adorable attentive young man, champagne, dancing, some relaxing weed, walking old streets while remaking the world, it all ending with sweet deep kisses.
I know Paris much better than Guilhem, who grew up in New Orleans but whose family is now based in Lyon. So I was able to show a bit of my local expertise and that was cool--here is the memorial to the deported, you really must visit this one day, there's a poem, Liberté, by Paul Eluard, carved into the walls and millions of tiny lights going on to infinity...here's Kilometer Zero, which represents the point from which all distances in France are measured.
We put our feet on Kilometer Zero and Guilhem said your foot is lovelier than mine, clearly ignoring my cankles. Hey, it was 100 degrees, of course my ankles were swelling! You try walking around Paris in heat in heels!
We walked along the north side of Notre Dame and crossed over to Ile Saint Louis, then dipped down to the river banks, where Guilhem offered me his arm (what 31 year old does that? It was crazy caregiving) so I was better able to navigate the cobblestone/heel duet.
We walked and walked, smoked some more weed, and just talked. The air was heavy, thick with heat. The heat bounced off the old stones; it was like walking through radiance.
The whole moment was really sweet and nice and satisfying. I was sensitive to the fact that while I was on vacation, he was not, so when I saw it was 1:00 am, I said maybe we should think about wrapping this up. We ascended a set of stone stairs and got back to the street level. By this time we had walked to the Marais and I saw a taxi rank so I told Guilhem that I'd grab a cab since the métro had closed. Dumb city with its early métro closures.
He asked me when I'd be back from California, I asked him when he'd be back from his next vacation (at his family's country home) and we said we'd see each other in late August. That seems so far away. I have to be honest; I feel conflicted about continuing with this, but at the same time happy to continue to see him as long as neither of us are in another, more-appropriate relationship.
We kissed a long time while the taxi waited, he put me in the cab, shut the door and shouted "Eat some donuts for me!" (refering to my trip to the US).
This time I was the one sending the post-date text, which I wrote from the cab. I sent him the pic of kilometer zero, said it was a shame it had been so hot and I couldn't dance the bebop, but that I liked his energy and Goodnight!
He wrote back It's always good with you.
However this plays out, my moment with Guilhem will always be one of my sweetest memories.
I found this very hurtful (who forgots a date with me?) and then I remembered this was exactly the reason I stopped investing in "flakey Brian" after a few dates during our first iteration.
So that opened the door to Guilhem, who not only confirmed our dancing date for Wednesday (and he had had 3 weeks plus a week of vacation to forget it) but expressed much excitement at seeing me for this evening.
So that made me happy and turned me off Brian quite a bit. Whatever his dating issues are, they are his, they are not mine and have nothing to do with me. It is unfortunate because everything else is there, well except for sex!- but sorry no, this is not going to be a fully-facetted thing ever. I will, however, go out with him at his initiative but I won't be "reminding" him of dates he sets up with me and then doesn't follow up on. Hello bad grammar.
(Our date is tonight, which does not make me thrilled because I have had 2 hours of sleep and am very cranky and a bit hungover.)
So! Let's talk about sexy sweet Guilhem. Again, it was unbearably hot last night, 100 degrees F at 9:30pm when we met up. We were to meet at the club but I texted him to meet me at Shakespeare and Company which is adjacent to the club. I wanted to get him a copy of a book I wrote a couple of chapters of, "Love à La Française", but it is now out of print. I have some copies out in Normandy so I'll bring him one up the next time I'm there. Anyway, he shows up, we kiss, we walk over to the club and sweat is already forming on my legs and his cheeks. This kind of heat should not be allowed.
Fortunately there was some air in the club. He gets me a glass of champagne and himself a Get27 (summer drink men seem to like; I think it tastes of toothpaste) and we celebrate my being on vacation and his returning from a week in the south of France were he did all sorts of manly activities like hang gliding, kayaking and other sports. He read a book and recommended it to me and we talked of the southern writers, Jean Giono, Pagnol etc. I love that this young kid is literate.
We descend into the cellar where the band is in full swing. Caveau de la Huchette is known for bebop, swing dancing and only that. A lot of pros come to show off their skills and there were two couples on the dancefloor, the guys dressed in zoot suits and the women in outfits that would have been appropriate for WWII Victory dancing. They were amazing to watch. The effect however is that one (me) is too intimidated to dance. But Guilhem loves to move so he said let's watch and do what they do. I told him no, I am too embarassed and really this isn't my kind of dancing (I thought perhaps the group would not play swing but stick to the style we had heard the night we first saw them.) Ultimately Guilhem won, and we got onto the dancefloor and just improvised. After a couple of dances we did get a bit better but really, the steps to swing are strictly dictated and you really can't just play it by ear. Still, it was nice to be in his arms and smell his lovely scent and just have him all around me.
Let's cut to: after an hour there, Guilhem said he just couldn't stand the heat anymore and let's go outside. His shirt was soaked, his head was dripping, and I had a glow certainly. We got another drink and then went out to the street where it was still 100 degrees but whatever.
I had brought the weed he had left me the last time and took it out, asking him to roll us a joint. His eyes opened wide and told me to be more discreet; this area of the Latin Quarter was heavily patroled and we could get fined. OK, what do I know? I'm a weed neophyte. He discreetly rolls us a joint and we smoke. We talked about books, love, his PNL sessions where he is working some life patterns out, my therapy, my former relationship---I rarely talk about Phil with Guilhem because it just doesn't seem appropriate--but as usual, our conversation just flowed very naturally. Goddammit! If only he were 20 years older.
But he isn't and I was struck again at how this probably isn't a great idea for me to continue with; someone might get hurt and possibly him because he is someone who loves deeply and with great passion. So I need to step lightly here because a human and a human heart is involved.
Guilhem suggests we walk around---it's midnight by now and still 100 fucking degrees but the streets are emptying and only the Parisian youth is out, spilling out of the cafés and clubs.
This is where the evening just gets magnificent. Really. If I never see Guilhem again (just imagining; this isn't likely), I will always remember this boy with enormous fondness because walking, talking, and kissing him in This Paris, This Paris of heat and night and an almost-full moon, well...this pretty much constitutes My Perfect Date. Truly, the evening had everything: an adorable attentive young man, champagne, dancing, some relaxing weed, walking old streets while remaking the world, it all ending with sweet deep kisses.
I know Paris much better than Guilhem, who grew up in New Orleans but whose family is now based in Lyon. So I was able to show a bit of my local expertise and that was cool--here is the memorial to the deported, you really must visit this one day, there's a poem, Liberté, by Paul Eluard, carved into the walls and millions of tiny lights going on to infinity...here's Kilometer Zero, which represents the point from which all distances in France are measured.
We put our feet on Kilometer Zero and Guilhem said your foot is lovelier than mine, clearly ignoring my cankles. Hey, it was 100 degrees, of course my ankles were swelling! You try walking around Paris in heat in heels!
We walked along the north side of Notre Dame and crossed over to Ile Saint Louis, then dipped down to the river banks, where Guilhem offered me his arm (what 31 year old does that? It was crazy caregiving) so I was better able to navigate the cobblestone/heel duet.
We walked and walked, smoked some more weed, and just talked. The air was heavy, thick with heat. The heat bounced off the old stones; it was like walking through radiance.
The whole moment was really sweet and nice and satisfying. I was sensitive to the fact that while I was on vacation, he was not, so when I saw it was 1:00 am, I said maybe we should think about wrapping this up. We ascended a set of stone stairs and got back to the street level. By this time we had walked to the Marais and I saw a taxi rank so I told Guilhem that I'd grab a cab since the métro had closed. Dumb city with its early métro closures.
He asked me when I'd be back from California, I asked him when he'd be back from his next vacation (at his family's country home) and we said we'd see each other in late August. That seems so far away. I have to be honest; I feel conflicted about continuing with this, but at the same time happy to continue to see him as long as neither of us are in another, more-appropriate relationship.
We kissed a long time while the taxi waited, he put me in the cab, shut the door and shouted "Eat some donuts for me!" (refering to my trip to the US).
This time I was the one sending the post-date text, which I wrote from the cab. I sent him the pic of kilometer zero, said it was a shame it had been so hot and I couldn't dance the bebop, but that I liked his energy and Goodnight!
He wrote back It's always good with you.
However this plays out, my moment with Guilhem will always be one of my sweetest memories.