paris.

ah, paris. i arrived on sunday around noon. somehow managed to lose one of my bags, although it was gate-checked. went through the usual paperwork and got a taxi to the hotel, which was located on an obscure street in the 6th arrondissement. surveyed the room--not bad!!--and went downstairs to enquire as to where one could buy underwear, shoes, trousers, etc. on a sunday afternoon. nowhere, i was told. wondered briefly about finding that marks and spencer's i'd heard existed....i explained that i had lost my baggage. the woman behind the desk said she knew that, because it was already on its way. wow. that was fast. went and had an omelette for lunch, then a shower, then slept, because i hadn't done so on the plane. or for the few days before i left. because i was very very nervous. tried with some success to read before frank showed up. an irish lesbian novel. good stuff. waited. waited. had a beer from the mini-bar and was pondering more when....knock knock.

it took about five minutes for all my worries to be completely forgotten, and another five for both of our clothes to disappear. hmm. i was surprised at how familiar he was to me. best of all, we had champagne to celebrate what i'd found out just before leaving for the airport..........i was accepted to a graduate program at the university of chicago!!!!!!!!!

we had a lovely supper, although i could hardly eat for the happiness. although the chocolate tart with caramelized oranges was amazing. wine, coffee, calvados, and then to a sidewalk table for more wine. back at the hotel, we talked until 6 in the morning. i was so comfortable i forgot to be surprised until much later when recalling it.

a couple of hours of sleep, then hotel breakfast, then on the metro to the pere lachaise cemetary. frank thought the graves looked like stone phone boxes. i thought they looked like tim burton's idea of a suburb. and i don't mean the one in edward scissorhands. each gravesite is a tiny chapel, room enough for one mourner and four or five of your family post mortem. we saw balzac, bizet, and of course, jim morrison. i have a plea for all jim morrison fans who want to make this pilgrimage: if you want to graffitti something, do his grave. not the graves of those who were unlucky enough to be buried nearby! please! i feel sad for those families who have to deal with "lizard king" inscribed on their grandmother's tomb. anyway. we didn't see heloise and abelard, but we did see the site of the world champion's men's hairdresser. some french even i can read.

the best, though, was two adjacent sites, each inscribed "bra." just think about what that looks like for a second.

a beer for him and orangina for me, then back to the centre of town. looked for a specifice galerie where he wanted to buy a painting, but it was closed. had a gorgeous lunch of raw-milk camembert, a rather grapefruity bottle of white, and pain poilane (whole-grain, naturally risen bread). coffee and calvados. it started to hail, and our sun-drenched lunch turned into him putting ice chips into my calvados. we eventually gave up on sitting in it and walked to the metro station instead.

a nap at the hotel, somewhat. off to dinner. leek tart and warm goat cheese salad for me, salad with chicken livers and a leg of lamb for him. he had a dangerous-looking blue cheese and i had a creme brulee. back to the sidewalk cafe again.

tuesday we went to sleep and woke up late. breakfast. walked along the seine. coffee. up to the champs-elysees to buy perfume for my mother. i helped him pick out a gift for his 15-year-old daughter. down a much more exclusive shopping street: fendi, ferragamo, rykiel, frette, dior.....felt both poor and fat, and far too american. that's all right. all is well after chevre and cucumbers and an amazing bottle of red. i bought lunch for once. coffee and calvados.

we perused some antique shops near the louvre. he bought plates. yes, he collects plates. and he bought something else, this time for me. a ring, roman, the significance of which is almost too personal to be described here. i'll just say that it was a beautiful gesture and that it means so much to me.
a few pints at an irish pub to warm up--it had started raining again--and back to dress for dinner.

a bottle of nice red before dinner. then to a restaurant we'd both "discovered." the food was gorgeous. i had the bruschetta with fresh mozzarella and baby tomatos and a salad of (truly) wild arugula with parmesan and dates. he had scampi with mint and noodles, and a tuna steak with white beans. a bottle of sancerre and foccacia. but, to tell the truth, the wine and the no-sleep and the emotional pressure had all caught up with me, and i was a sobbing wreck. to be told that he preferred me dripping from nose and eye to smiling falsely was nice. reassuring. dessert was tarte au citron, which i could barely eat. then to the sidewalk cafe, but i was too worn out. shivering. shaking. so back to the hotel for a hot bath.

we stayed up all night and he had to catch a train at 6:30 am. i slept, deeply, until it was time for my breakfast and my plane home.

so. i think my feelings on this are pretty well sorted out. i feel immensely guilty for blanking him for so long. i ignored his emails. made sure he didn't come 'round the pub. came back here to the states and hardly gave him a thought, because i was convinced i was doing the right thing by being loyal to K. but if i had ever, for one minute, known how frank really is, i would have done differently. if i had known how much fun he is to talk to outside a pub atmosphere. if i had known that he likes to do the same things--films, museums, restaurants--as i do. this entire trip was easy, effortless fun. he is honest and twelve hundred times more patient than K. and best of all, i know he will never pressure me into a relationship. that's part of what the ring means. it means i get to make any decision.

i get to ask him if he wants to invite me anywhere again. i get to ask him if he wants to come visit me in the states. i get to ask him if he wants to be serious. it's all up to me. and it's a little bit strange that he knows kenneth, and that he isn't as angry about all of this as i am, but i think that if he were, he would just be saying it because i want to hear it. and the one thing i believe about frank is that he wouldn't say anything just because i want to hear it.

and that is a refreshing change.

---

so. i like him. a LOT. he likes me. a LOT. and that is a feeling of hope.

i am definitely going to graduate school, whether it be chicago or oxford, this fall. and that is a feeling of hope.

so my mood has improved tenfold.

and that, also, is a refreshing change.