Le Frechy and the Date

Oh the date…well where to begin my friends…where to begin.

Luckily a friend from work lives very close in the loop, so she let me borrow her apt. to change and what not (as I cannot keep my clothes looking nice throughout the entire day I find that I must change for evening occasions) Plus, I woke up late so the hair needed a little fixing…well…a lot of fixing. But I finally got myself under control and I looked pretty cute (no I did not wear the purple dress/red shoe combo from my drawing a few posts back, but I did look sass)

Anyway, the car picked me up on the corner (that makes me sound a bit like a hooker…and I like it!) and the driver-in full uniform-got out and opened the door for me to which I found “the man” waiting for me inside.

He looked great. Clearly dressed from work, he had a suit that I am certain costs more then Brett’s and my rent combined. Great shoes and his hair had a little gel in it with a very European style. All together, the guy that I was borderline attracted to caught my attention. So as I slid in (and I am not a “slider”, so it wasn’t as graceful as I would have hoped) he said I looked “as pretty as a dragonfly” WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?! WTF Frenchy? I kind of giggled and said that I was not familiar with that saying and that I didn’t know how pretty a dragonfly truly was. He assured me that it was a saying in southern France and translated it lost its meaning but it was a very good thing. I seriously doubt that, Frenchy. Seriously. And honestly, I would assume that Dragonflies look the same in France as they do here…and they are not that pretty here…Unless Dragonflies are wearing saucy lipstick and kicky little berets in France, I am not interested in being compared to one…so move on!

HOWEVER that was all washed away when he pulled out a bottle of Champagne (and not the $3.99 Cook’s special at the Jewel) and said that since there might be traffic he decided to bring refreshments. In case you are wondering how to win my affections (and I know many of you are)...Champagne is the first way to go. I am, much like my mother, a Champagne WHORE!! I would drink it 24-7 if the opportunity so arose. So there we are, driving down Michigan Ave sipping glasses of Champagne. I could have gone home right then and I would have been happy.

But no…it continued! We finally arrived at the Four Seasons and there was a table waiting for us. I have stayed at the Four Seasons a couple of times, but I do not ever recall being in their bar/restaurant area. I really enjoyed the decor and could have stayed for days if I was allowed to “people watch” openly. We sat down and he asked me what I would like to drink to which I wanted to say “A Bud Light please” (all the while laughing to myself b/c I knew that Brett would kill me for even thinking that!) but instead ordered a Berry Martini. Oh the delight on my tongue was unlike anything that has ever touched my little taste buds before. I really think that I might have fallen in love with the Berry Martini…I like to think that I was on a date with martini instead of the guy.

So there were great drinks (obviously since I have continued on about Berry for the past paragraph) and very interesting conversation. I really enjoyed speaking to him about everything and fell right at ease. I had anticipated that he might be a bit snobbish or perhaps a little high brow, but really he was very sweet and down to earth. We talked about his time in France and his job and then had an opportunity to talk about my position. Turns out he was a researcher when he first began (for Human Rights Watch nonetheless, which is my favorite organization EVER!) so we were able to discuss some of my research and publication experience. The drawbacks are the age and the life experience. Each of his being so much greater then mine. However, amidst our conversation were more drinks and a light dinner…lasting quite into the evening. Knowing that he had to go back to work after this little date I kept suggesting that we part ways, but it did not seem that he was ok with that. So we continued to chat but finally the date had to end…

I was going back to my friends place (to inform her of the evening and to change back to appropriate clothes) so he took me there in the car and asked if I would like it to pick me back up to take me home… “no” I said with a Scarlett O’Hara sigh, “I can make it home alright”. So he left with a sweet kiss on the cheek (I am a first date prude, people. Call me Charlotte York, but it is not something I do) and a promise to call…which he did…15 minutes after I left to A) make sure I didn’t need a ride home and B) say that he had a lovely time and would like to set up another date. He is traveling back to France tomorrow for about 5 days, but maybe after that he will call.

Really, it was lovely. Was he the man I am going to marry? Certainly not. However, as Jen and I have discussed, I do not have qualms with the idea of being a trophy wife/gold digger. We will probably go out again because I think of this as an adventure and if a decision needs to be made as to the serious of this nonsense, eventually it will be made. I am sure he will tire of me before that happens as I cannot imagine I am really his kind of girl. But, for the evening I felt like a little princess and enjoyed being on a real date (even though I don’t often consider myself a “real date” kind of girl) Maybe you could say I felt a little bit like a dragonfly…







Nope… “drangonfly” still doesn’t work for me, Frenchy.