I went on a date today with a man eight years older than I am. We went to the zoo and saw a movie. He’s pretty cool, he works in IT, he likes Blonde Redhead (what is it with french men and Blonde Redhead?), and wears his hair in a ponytail. He is tall so I had to crane my neck every time I want to say something to him. I didn’t want to . I want to tell these things to you. I want to know what you’re doing for Halloween’s. I want you to know that I’m going to Germany with my class for the Toussaints and I want to know whether you have plans or not. When we saw the orangutans, I want to laugh and point at them with you. When we cross the red lights I want to be holding your hands. At the movies, I want to bury my face on your shoulder when some of the graphic scenes appear. And afterwards I want to eat Chinese or Japanese or Mexican with you, and if you miss your train I want to show you my new apartment with its tiny single bed. And even though there isn’t a lot of space I don’t mind sharing my quilt with you. I want to wake up the next morning trying to get out of bed only to have you pull my arms back around your shoulders as if you don’t want to let me go.

That night there was another dance party. The empty school yard was decked with lights and lanterns, and people were dancing to the music blaring from their headphones. It was your kind of thing. Except that they were doing lindy hop which you hate. But at this dance party, I don’t know if you remember, they were playing waltz. I remember my hand on your shoulder, the other holding yours. I remember making our way through old ladies in floral frocks and their equally dashing dance partners, my bag dangling down my shoulder, making it awkward to move freely so I threw it on the floor. I remember twirling and spinning, and I remember that I was so happy that now I guess it just makes sense, that even from the beginning it was too good to be true.

but what can I do when I miss you but I can’t talk to you knowing that you don’t want to talk to me because I probably didn’t mean all that much to you and I didn’t matter enough for you to miss me, my presence, our conversation, the aimless wandering around the city, and here I thought we were having a good time despite of the things I might have said or done that were not very cool, but you know you’ve done some uncool things too and every time I told myself to just hang in there, and that’s how I know that I didn’t mean all that much to you, you wouldn’t hang in there for me, for us, if there ever was an ‘us’, and this is what makes me sad until now, yes I’m still sad, still.

finding an apartment in Paris. what a nightmare. during the previous 3 months I was lucky enough to find students who sublet their studios for the summer, but now the competition is fiercer than trying to secure a ticket for a Bon Iver concert. and timing is everything. you see an offer for a good price, at a good location; don’t bother visiting it, just say you’ll take it. because if not you will be so overcome with remorse that you just give up and give in and sign up to an agent. which was what I did. and it doesn’t stop there, because you realize you’re also competing with other people who signed up to the same agent… SIGH