𝓝𝓮𝓽𝓯𝓵𝓲𝔁 𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓬 𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓻 💗💍

"Eureka!"

I yelled as I got to see the pop-up messages on my phone that was just on the bedside table. Yes boy, I am Archimedes of dating. I jumped off my bed and grab my popcorn to see how this show will go!

"How do you suggest if we get to be closer during this lock down time?"

"Let's elevate things to next level."

This she texted after two nights of constant communication and giggly flirting chats.

This chance of encounter happens through a Facebook Flat Search Page in Paris. I chose to stay local so I often visit the page with high hopes of getting any luck and I found her there.

Well, what happened was a clear intentional match making. Why? Her post for roommate search was this "Have a room as my ex-boyfriend flew back to USA. Got a spare bed for a guest for this quarantine time. Let's do Netflix and chill."

Aha! This could be an omen of things to come at my favor. Don't judge me. I was desperate. I really needed to shift at different place.

And-

And what urged me more is the access to free Netflix. I gotta make her chill about what I need. I could not be happier to see her mention a free Netflix access.

The next thing I know, I was on messenger saying "Hi" to her.

Let's skip the opening pick up lines not relevant here.

"Good to know everything but, tell me are you watching the La Casa De Papel?" I asked.

And from there, we started talking about the Money Heist series and all earlier seasons for two days non-stop. Yes, I have that luxury of free time as we are stuck at our homes. After making her comfortable into my vicinity, she said she will be happy to have me as her roommate a.k.a boyfriend too if I would like the proposal.

The next thing I said is a big fat YES. This time I was extremely desperate for the Netflix ID.

She asked me few days later to take things to next level and made plan for our days after this lock down.

I said yes: Tu Casa es Mi Casa,

Consequently, I got my access to the Netflix. Now I watched the season 4.

But was it supposed to be a sadness or pun? I don't know but it's not her own Netflix subscription. It's her ex-boyfriend'.

That got me in this tub of troubled feelings as I already binge watched Money Heist Season 4. I don't need the Netflix anymore.

I looked into her texts again.

"How do you suggest we get to be closer in this lock down time?"

"Let's elevate things to next level."


Shall I still meet her? Or just say "Sorry darling"


“After all, what’s more human than the fight for survival?”

Después de todo, ¿qué es más humano que la lucha por la supervivencia?


"Eureka!"

Some dates are unforgettable (ㆆ_ㆆ)

Hilariously Awful Date Story

"During the date, she started calling me her boyfriend, and at the end of the date, she told me she loved me."

"It was a Tinder date — we met up for pizza and beer. I'm not into basketball, but the whole time, that's all she talked about. Like, really specific — players, stats, records. And then would tell me off for not knowing those things — straight-up rude. It's the only time I've ever thought about faking a phone call during a date."

"It was my third week of college and I had really hit it off with this girl in one of my classes. We decided to meet up for dinner one night in the middle of the week (not really sure if that's considered a first date). But anyway, I got there a few minutes before she did, and when she came in, we were chatting, and then, when she sat down, she farted really loud. Like unavoidably loud. She excused herself to go to the bathroom and never came back. I'm now a senior and we haven't talked since that day."

There was no second date. (ㆆ_ㆆ)''

A Date with Myself 🥂

Dating Myself in Paris 

Back in Mumbai, I used to eat in restaurants by myself. Sometimes I got coffee alone, perched on a bar-stool scrolling through my phone, hoping I looked like a harried freelancer and not a loser with no friends.

But in Paris, about a week after I’d moved here, exhausted by my apartment search and tired of microwaving in my Airbnb, I decided to get a proper lunch. I’d just clutch my phone and not make eye contact with anyone.

As I approached the picturesque brasserie, with wicker chairs and tiny tables and heat lamps, I realized I didn’t know how to say “A table for one, please.” We’d never covered this in my beginner's French class.

Une table pour un? Too clunky. I’m too shy socially to ask if i pronounced right!!! No, doesn’t sound right. Juste moi? Seulement moi?

I was sure the waiter would get it, but I really didn’t want to sound like an idiot. Or a singleton loser. I stood in the doorway, and the waiter approached me and said Bonjour. Then, the dumbest thing imaginable flew out of my mouth:

C’est moi!

After my C’est moi! experience, I began to enjoy going to cafés alone. I’d pick a table outdoors (La Terrace) under the awning, facing the street, sometimes reading or writing, sometimes not. People-watching in Paris is now one of my favorite pastimes, with the sleek businessmen in dark suits and white shirts, or the shoppers with baguettes under their arms who munch the crispy end of the loaf, or the parade of dogs. My favorites, though, are the old ladies in heels and lipstick, tapping a cane every other step.

When you’re alone, you have space to think, “What was this woman’s life like, that she wears heels instead of casual slip-on loafers? She’s old – did she see World War II? Was she in the resistance? Maybe she’s not that old, maybe she a student during the 1968 revolution, building barricades and waving signs? Has she had lovers that she slapped and then kissed, like in those black-and-white French movies?” When you’re people-watching in Paris, you can let your thoughts wander. Just your thoughts, no one else’s. 

Paris is a very romantic place. And that romance is not limited to couples – it’s available for everyone.

Here are a few of my favorite places in Paris, to go with a friend or by yourself:

Paris is full of bookshops and stalls, I love atmosphere of being engulfed by books. Get a cup of coffee for self, and probably some friendly English-speakers if you’re up for conversation.

I love sitting on the terrace of a cafe, watching the neighborhood happen.

The "Petit Palais" is a great place to visit. The permanent collection is free, so you can spend as much or as little time as you want and be on your way. There’s nothing like a glimpse of a Monet or Courbet to brighten your eyes.

Then I go shopping at Monoprix or Castorama or Auchan. BHV shows you what’s possible.

So, if you find yourself alone in the Most Romantic City in the World, for an afternoon, a season or indefinitely, don’t worry.

You’ll always have Paris – and Paris has got you, babe.

Ghosted

---

Ghosted

by Lucy Stattmann

Bonjour, So here is a story i read some days back and it's something i liked a lot i felt it's something can be related by every age group & each person. So here is the story hope it connects and makes you feel the same and a worthy reading.

Hello.

The message was just a text, a single word that possessed power. My fingers, my fingers, my hands, my fingers. I did not type; I watched and waited. A reply that is what I wanted. My heart was calm, so horribly steady and only a dead soul could understand the need for a beating heart.

The pen, the pen, such a simple pen. So utterly useless it rested in my palm. Through the window in the light, illuminated so bright there was a girl. Not a girl, but a woman. Her hair flowed, and her skin was bare. My eyes looked on, the Lady completely unaware. A twitch in my eye, an itch to my skin, it meant a lot to be so forgotten.

The message was written with black ink that sunk into the page like water on fabric. A single love letter, an unlikely romance… oh, how ignorance was bliss. Up the wall, into the room, the note settled on the bed. The floorboards held me afloat as two bright orbs gazed down at the unconscious Lady clutched in the confines of sleep. The world beyond my grasp was sheltered in a layer of darkness as the stars twinkled overhead.

The Lady’s phone buzzed on the bedside table, overflowing with messages from boys who loved her not. Every ounce of her porcelain skin was treasured… so beautiful, so raw, her curves so gentle like a soft summer night. My eyes so deadly and intentions bizarre, the pen carved letters into her skin that left scars. Screams echoed, blood was drawn, the ink so deep it adorned her like a tattoo. A heavy hand smothered her agonising cries that ricocheted around the room. She must have known I loved her, how my being wept to rest my lips upon her skin; to feel her warmth seep into my touch.

The pen continued to ruin the Lady, and her dull eyes stared at me with a sparkle and a shine. Tears leaked down her fleshy cheeks, but I brushed them away with my fingertips. The moisture kept dripping, like a flooding damn, and I could not stop the growing storm. The Lady thrashed and fought, she kicked and scratched, spittle flew, and for a slight moment, I saw a monster. The beauty and grace her frame once held had vanished. Rage bubbled and boiled in the pit of my stomach and then overflowed in a gruesome wail.
Redness tinged everything, and the Lady ceased, coming to a soundless stop and in her eyes, I saw more than tears, there was almost fear. The pen pierced down, assaulting her pupil. It stabbed, twisted and then I left it be. It protruded gruesomely, and I knew then, that she was nothing more than a being that possessed a dead heart.

The Lady’s chest remained stagnant; instead, the steady thump-thump of a lifeless heart began to beat. I was alive, but still, the silence was deafening. Only a dead soul could understand the need for a beating heart. I made a quick retreat out of the window and back into the night. In my pocket, my phone buzzed, and I remembered the note I left on her bed. On a backdrop of white, black ink spelled out a single word.

Hello.

500 Minutes of Paris IKEA avec une date

"During the date, she started calling me her boyfriend, and at the end of the date, she told me she loved me."

You know when you're getting ready for a date, and you're totally nervous and jittery? When you worry about the million little things that could go wrong and then feel a little silly when none of your concerns turn out to be legitimate? Well, i feel i was so lucky to get this story in my life. Here, a first-date story of mine.

"I took a girl on a first date to see the Joker movie a few months back but completely neglected to plan anything afterward. We were driving back trying to figure out something to do, and I jokingly suggested we check out the IKEA Chamber catalogs [a home improvement section]. She was very much into the idea and so we spent the afternoon doing a bad reenactment of the 500 Days of Summer IKEA scene. 

Summer: The sink is broken. Tom: Well that's okay because... that's why we bought a home with two kitchens.Summer: Your so smart.

It's my very first time to any IKEA, all i knew about IKEA was advertisement and my MBA presentations. I found out it's both of ours first time in any IKEA.

She got embarrassed by me sitting on the moving sidewalk because that was clearly the most embarrassing part of being taken to a IKEA on a first date. In all seriousness, Sabrina, thank you for being such a good sport about that. I'll never forget the importance of plans and a good home improvement store again.

Darling, I Don't Know How To Tell You This, But There's a Chinese Family In Our Bathroom. 👀😅

A walk in Paris 2 A.M.

In France, the actual dating time is the relationship time. When I brought this subject up with a Frenchman, he simply said, “Why complicate things?”

When I moved to Paris a few month ago, I couldn’t ignore nor resist the sense of romance that permeates throughout the renowned city of love and light. Being here in my twenties, and single, it’s only natural that I seek out the full scope of Parisian living –the food, the culture, and the seduction. In just few months, I must admit I’ve never quite experienced a dating scene as I have here in France.

It’s easy to meet men or women here, but the dating rules are really different.

City of Love ♡

No getting-to-know

There’s not a lot of time devoted to getting to know the new person. Anglo-Saxons tend to “date” before entering into an intimate relationship, meaning commitment and expectations of the future are not clearly defined. It allows people to meet casually without the pressure of expressing what they want from that person right away.

If two people desire to be together, then you continue to see the other person. If you no longer desire to see the other person, then you leave the relationship. You are either together or you’re not. Why spend time projecting expectations before experiencing a relationship?

The French are not afraid to open themselves up to emotional connections with others. Those I’ve had the pleasure of meeting seemed less guarded, everyone has a fear of rejection or hurt, but it doesn’t seem to be a factor that hinders a French from taking the relationship to the next level. So what starts out as drinks one night can turn into a whirlwind romance before the end of the week. And just as quickly as it starts, a relationship ends.

Chivalry, Romance & Love ✿

Chivalry is never dead

Manners are a core part of French culture and this carries over into dating. Generally, French citizens pride themselves on their hospitality and politeness. It’s often expected to fill someone else’s water glass along with your own and attentiveness becomes second nature at a young age. You do this at dinner with friends and you do this at dinner with “un ami.” 

These small gestures really do make a difference when displays of thoughtfulness could mean a future partner that is attentive to another’s needs.

France has truly kept up the tradition of chivalry.

Be “Quietly Confident”

This sensitivity, paired along with their understated but not unnoticed social presence gives off a vibe of being quietly confident. A French woman wants man to appears self-confident enough in himself and his masculinity to not feel the need to speak so loudly, or act so assertively. 

There is no need for tickets to the gun show or the basketball game because we feel their “strength” through the way they hold and respect themselves, as well as us.

Let's be Real

The deep conversations first came as a surprise and I thought the person I had just met was maybe a bit dramatic or strange jumping into conversations of that depth. But it is an aspect that I now quite enjoy about French culture. You gain a better understanding of the person you’ve met and the time spent together is usually compelling. 

Trust is gained through the exchange. While it’s definitely more comfortable to keep your inner thoughts to yourself and stay reserved, taking the risk to open yourself up to someone has benefits, and these benefits outweigh the risk.

What’s your experience been like?  ♡