The Road Not Taken

For a few years I was more a rumored slut than I was an actual slut. There was the German grad student who spent a lot of time asking me what things meant. He and I would hang out in my room, so clearly we were fucking. And then there was Thomthumb. We watched movies late night and shared pot brownies, so of course we were fucking. There was a guy who walked me across campus one night, a guy one of my flat mates took home and freaked out on so I let him sleep in a chair in my room, the HOTT Scott (who was very hot and very Scottish), and a few others.

The irony of this period of my life is that this was my moderately celibate time. I was relatively unbroken and relatively taken. For the majority of this time I was fascinated by the Film Major and sooner than later I ended up in bed with him. Other than the Film Major there was only one guy other at this time. Every girl deserves a French lover. I got mine on the New Year’s Eve of 2000.

I was meant to meet Carrie Patch (Soon to be Carrie Un-Patched) in Paris and through a series of unfortunate events previously seen in some cloying Martin and Lewis movie, there are two hotels in Paris by the same name, one in the heart of the city and one way out on the outskirts of the city. Carrie (with a car-load of people) went to hotel A and learned she was to be at hotel B. Unable to let me know about the change in itinerary, I was boarding the train in London to Gare du Nord, and making friends with the American boys sitting in my row. We chatted and talked about the collective plan for the entire universe to meet at the Eiffel Tower. Saying our farewells, I made my way via metro to hotel A.

The desk staff clearly explained to me what they explained to the Patch Family Robinson and I was left to figure out what I would do. I knew there was no way I was going to make it to hotel B and decided that I would make my way to the Eiffel Tower and spend the night with the aforementioned universe. As I trudged back to the Metro hail started and I knew that not having a warm room in Paris was going to be a thing. Luckily the people of Paris proved to be something or other and my thing was bounced all over the place.

To summarize: there were Algerian men speaking in Algerian about taking me to their house for “fun”, an Algerian woman who dragged me off the train to save my life (thanks!), the only waiter that spoke English at the restaurant the Algerian woman was eating at before she went to meet her boyfriend (while her husband stayed home and watched their child), the Algerian woman went to her rendezvous with her boyfriend and I went home with the French waiter.

Okay, so there we were in the hail trying to catch a cab and all we could get was a night bus. That fucking thing was heaving full with people in various states of intoxication including the gang of boys who would eventually steal my wallet. Have no fear, I was able to grab the hand that was reaching into my bag and by refusing to let go and raising hell my wallet was “miraculously” found on the floor. Thankfully my return ticket was still in the wallet, but of course the cash was gone. I cared little for the missing money, I think it was the equivalent to a pack of cigarettes; I just like the fact that I kicked some bad attitude French ass. Half the bus said I was lucky I didn’t get stabbed and half said they were glad they didn’t tangle with me.

Needless to say, the bus driver kicked all of the trouble makers off the bus, including yours truly and my fearful waiter followed (fucker didn’t even try to beat those guys up, just tried to talk me out of making a scene. Little did he know of my love for scene making). Finding a cab was impossible and we wandered through the city trying to find a doorway to shelter us from the endless weather. Finally, many hours into 2001 we found the last cab in Paris and paid our way in change to his apartment. I was never more grateful for a warm apartment with a strange man: a bath ensued as did some pretty adventurous sex. The next morning he and I went on our respective ways.

Thus ended my three year celibacy with the guy that no one ever saw and was never rumored to be part of my stable- I took the one less traveled by, and that had made all the difference.

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 01/21 at 09:05 PM

Love that story. Thanks! Gave me a genuine smile. I wouldn’t tangle with you either…..

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  01/22  at  05:35 PM

Your wallet was saved by your cat-like reflexes.

CAT-LIKE!

Posted by atizzle  on  01/23  at  06:42 AM

Tanya, you know I have no patience for rude people or thievery. He was lucky there was a person between us or I would have knocked the shit out of him. The crowded bus that allowed him to get my shit saved his ass.

Tizz, what, did you think my cat-like reflexes only came out in Texas? Phu-leeze girl. And I don’t even think I was stoned!

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Posted by PiequeHieni  on  12/30  at  09:49 PM
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