“And we all know how well you read maps!” (Paris) – Day Five

Upon leaving Brussels, there was still a certain tension in the air between my boyfriend and I. Because of stupid events like him breaking my camera and offering a half-assed apology with no recourse, to him getting pissed about 10 minutes later at ME for whatever unknown reason (we were crossing the street??), to my follow-up public humiliation of him when he DARED take the hotel key to leave me in the streets of Brussels ALONE. Who fucking does that? I told him he was “no boyfriend” and “no man” for thinking it was OK to leave their girlfriend in a foreign city to fend for herself. (Afterthought: I wish I would have joined the guys that were laughing at us from the bar for a drink. Maybe Brussels would not have been so boring for me). For obvious reasons, we didn’t speak on the drive to Paris. Finally, after hours of driving, and too late for sincere apologies, he offers to fix or replace my camera. Sadly, upon arrival to what is supposed to be one of the most romantic places in the world, I felt completely broken and hollow. But I digress.

I hear Paris is one of the WORST cities to drive through in Europe, but I found it fairly simple with my GPS buddy, so long as you just follow everyone in front of you. THANKFULLY, our route didn’t take us near the Arc de Triomphe, where three (four?) lanes circle around aimlessly honking and breaking. The position of our parked rental was about an hour walk away from the Eiffel Tower, which was perfect because it allowed us to walk the Seine and see the highlights before nightfall (the time I rendered my disposable cameras useless).

Within the first few blocks of our walk, we lunch at a cute bistro on the corner near the Hotel de Ville. While in Paris, one should order a wine with a meal, right? I enjoy my Bordeaux and open-faced grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich (I obviously have seriously limited food habits, save for anything cheese and/or sandwich). Think: french-bread pizza, without the pizza stuff. Yum. E.

And the rest of the day was spent walking, with silence, and looking, with silence at these beautiful buildings and structures I never imagined or truly cared to see. Paris surprised me with its gorgeousness. Perhaps, the silence rendered a clear head to envelop the city around me. Though I was in Paris, and I hated my boyfriend. I hated that he never held my hand. I hated that he never put his arm around me. I hated that not ONCE did he engage me in conversation about what he was “taking in.” I hated that while I was with this man whom I loved on St. Patrick’s Day, I wanted to be with somebody else. Somebody more affectionate. Somebody that I knew wasn’t “embarrassed” to hold my hand or kiss me on the Pont Alexandre III. And yes, that somebody was somebody in particular. That “somebody else” I was thinking about would have loved it here… with me.

But Paris was cold and beautiful and a completely surreal experience for me. I can only hope I return one day in the arms of a different man who will love me completely. And not be afraid to show it.

** Note: This post was completed months after the vacation ended and after the break-up finally occurred.

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