Those in Glass Houses…

…should not throw stones.

I was a little shocked when a friend called me out about last week’s blog and accused me of being hypocritical of all things! It all started Tuesday night, when my friend Sydney took me to her favorite Italian restaurant for dessert. It was around midnight but we were craving tiramisu. The restaurant was closing but the very nice Italian guys who worked there decided they would stay open a little later for us.

Did I mention that there is something about Italian men that I like? My friend Sydney calls them light skin black men because of their confidence and swagger. Got to love it.

Anyway, Sydney is chatting away as I watched the swagger of our really cute server. In addition to getting our dessert, our server was busy chatting with another Italian male friend of his. Sydney excused herself to go wash her hands and as soon as she left, the Italian friend, comes over to the table and starts chatting me up…first in French, then in English. Sydney came back and gave me the look saying “Girl, he’s cute go for it.” He was okay but I was feeling our waiter. Nicola, the waiter’s friend was determined to get my attention, he gave us his resume…he owned his own company, loft in Paris, was in a long term relationship that didn’t work out. I only heard every other word because I was preoccupied with thinking of a way to include our server in the conversation. Nicolas offered us an after desert drink on the house. Afterwards, he made his move and asked me for my number. I was preparing to say no when Sydney spoke up and gave him my number in French. As we left, I asked her what was that all about- I was interested in the server!

She stopped and looked at me as if I had three heads and said “The server? You like the server? Do you mean the server who was not paying us…you any attention?” She went on to say “You are the last one to be talking about Samy and her movie ticket taking boyfriend.”

She was getting worked up, pulled out and jumped on her soapbox as she exclaimed that she needed a blog…she needed to write about how I was about to pass up a seemingly good catch for someone who did not express any interest in me and, BTW, does not speak a word of English.

This stopped me in my tracks. I have been in Paris for eight months and thought I did a lot of work on myself. For all of myself exploration and reflection, I still find myself going after guys that seem unavailable while doing a 50 yard dash from guys who show any signs of availability. I swear I thought I had left that baggage in New York. Now I realized that I carried it over 2,000 miles to Paris! I’ve heard the first step in recovery is admission…Guess I’ll start my 12 step program next week.

-French Kissed

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