“Happy girls are the prettiest girls” ~ Audrey Hepburn
It was 8:45 pm on Wednesday and a taxi had dropped me off in the Bercy Village Center, which was basically a plaza in the 12th arrondissement full of shops, a cinema, and restaurants. It was fairly new and remodeled and didn’t feel like Paris to me, but I enjoyed seeing new places in the city. I was early and I decided to go into a chocolate shop and buy some chocolates while I waited for my date.
The sales lady helping me was so incredibly sweet and as she was wrapping my box of twelve mint chocolates, she revealed she had married an American man and had lived in Santa Monica, California for several years. We exchanged some words about French and American culture, and she said that ultimately she divorced her American husband and moved back to France where she felt she belonged. She handed me my box and as I thanked her she said, “You will see, Paris is great for a few years but you will start to miss your culture more and more. You will eventually move back. It happens slowly, but you will start to realize where you identify.” I took note in my brain and wanted to argue with her statement. Instead, I thanked her for the advice and walked out of the store. At that point I felt I could not imagine missing my culture. I felt so alive in Paris. All of the French people so far had been so welcoming, and I felt a sense of peace living in Paris. I knew I would keep that statement locked in my brain though.
Hi Miss, I am here. In front of the wine bar. Waiting for you.
I glanced down at my phone to see this message from Damien. It was 9:03 pm. He was right on time. Impressive already for a French person, as they were usually always a fifteen-minute delay than the time originally stated.
I walked up to the wine bar and recognized Damien who was wearing a Northface jacket, dark jeans, and white converse sneakers. He was standing at 6 feet tall, and was just as his pictures had revealed. Tall, dark, and handsome. Damn. I thought to myself. He was gorgeous, and even more attractive in person. I approached him and he looked up. I watched as a smile lined his face. I could feel that we were both pleasantly surprised with the other person’s appearance. I was wearing an off-the -shoulder black blouse, with a forest green cape over it, and black leather pants that tightly hugged my body. My tall black leather boots put me at the height of about 5 foot 8 inches. We both had huge smiles and gave the essential bisous exchange and Bonsoir, Ca va?
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