The One With The French Garcon

As I mentioned before, the cowboy and I had a very strange kind of ‘relationship’ for lack of another word despite it going on for some time. Quite early into this whatever it was, we had a spectacular break-up and I attempted for the first the time to erase him from memory. Not very successful as it turned out a little later but hey these things happen.

Anyway as my heartbreak remedy of choice is a date, voila the French guy appeared on the scene just at the right time. There was no way this was going to be anything serious ever – not because he was French of course – so I was pretty flirty and maybe, possibly a little on the risque side too, both in my texts beforehand and when we met. This date was actually really good, probably or despite us both knowing from the start it wasn’t going to be anything else than lighthearted distraction. He had to find me in the National Gallery, I just gave him a hint what exhibit I was looking at. Try it sometime, I promise you it’s a lot more fun than you think. We had a coffee in the Crypt Cafe, followed by a trip to Camden Lock, having drinks and the occasional cigarettes. Yes, every so often, a cigarette with a glass of something in hand, sitting by the canal, is just the thing. We flirted quite blatantly with each other and as the evening drew in it was very obvious where this was heading. I was trying to play a little bit hard to get, just to keep up appearances at least to a degree, but I reached the point of fuck this (literally) quite soon. No one knew this guy, the likelihood of us ever crossing paths again in normal life was zero percent so I might as well have a bit of fun.

Being responsible adults we went to buy some condoms first, which was quite hilarious as the poor shop assistant got utterly red-faced watching us stand in front of them trying to work out which ones to get. I think it had more to do with the fact that he tried to work out why two middle aged people needed them in the first place. I did point out to Frenchie it was better if he decided, after all, he knew what to get. Size wise you know.

Let me tell you, at least this French guy was living up to expectations. More than once I might add. It was entertaining, satisfying and a lot of fun. Definitely a thing of the moment, but just what I needed and wanted right then. A bit like a KFC after a workout at the gym. Not something you would do all the time, but you can’t always be good. We did see each other again a couple of weeks later for a repeat performance, but by then the text dumper had reappeared and I couldn’t resist rekindling that so Frenchie was put on the shelf. I doubt he was too upset about this though, so don’t feel too bad for him.


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