Excerpt Forty Two

He then went on to say, “I really want you to come meet my dog, and see my place, I think you will like it. It’s rather simple, quiet and a good escape from the hustle and bustle of the city center.” I responded with an “okay” and a smile.

I’m not sure I was smiling inside though. I was hesitant to go home with him. I should have been feeling happy and excited but I was instead overwhelmed with disappointment. He was apparently good with words, although I could still feel something off about Damien. That text message from earlier that day still just seemed wrong. Telling a woman they are basically not worthy of spending the night after also implying more or less that I was allowed to spend time in his place. It felt calculated. Or selfish. He wasn’t worried about my feelings, just his own. At the time I was willing to play with fire from an emotional standpoint and hope that it would turn out as I had planned. However, that off putting text message combined with the “joint” of a restaurant he took me to on a Saturday night in Paris, why did I want to go further and shove this under the rug? I could feel my entire being wishing, wishing that we were at a proper restaurant where I could have felt my worth, or my fantasy would have been a reality. Paris always gave me that feeling, the reality was just as good as the fantasy. I was exhausted trying to find a man that would do the same. I had hoped that how he saw me, the image he had of me would have warranted a night of a higher standard. Why had I agreed to this? Possibly I just wanted Damien and what he could offer me, that picture perfect look, true Parisian, my tall, dark and handsome french boyfriend, even though in private moments I was disappointed. It wasn’t real then was it? It was superficial. Was I superficial? I’m not sure that is the word, but more the image of needing to have Damien in my life was producing an external feeling I wanted, but an internal feeling I hated. I was at war with myself. As we approached his apartment, I felt the self abandonment ensue.

The elevator was being repaired in Damien’s complex so we walked up the seven flights of stairs to his flat. When he opened the large door I have to say I was impressed. The flat was very large compared to most I had seen and had sliding glass doors opening up onto a large balcony. He had a very large open kitchen with modern finishes, which also gave way to a large living area. There were exposed rock and wooden beams, which gave an atmosphere of a wine cave combined with sleek and modern varnishes. He opened the refrigerator, which was massive for Parisian apartment standards and pulled out a bottle of champagne. He reached to select two stemless wine glasses from a glass cupboard. Two minutes later I was presented with a glass of champagne with raspberries floating at the top. He also set out a platter with several pastries including a beautiful strawberry tart. I appreciated this gesture and at least this was a slight step above the underwhelming Indian restaurant.

After a little wine we escaped to the balcony, and I could sense a change in Damien’s demeanor. He seemed preoccupied staring out at the view. He was almost too calm and even though I felt comfortable in silence with Damien at this point, I could feel a subtle shift in energy. I grabbed his hand and held it in mine, and ran my fingers along his arm gently while simultaneously resting my head against his body. He seemed somewhat closed off and cold in his body language towards me…