Well, everyone, it is with great excitement that I inform you all that what we have all been waiting for has finally taken place. I have finally had my first Europe snog. What’s more, it took place on my birthday, in France, with a Frenchman. I could barely have invented a better premise. So here’s how it happened, since I’m sure you want all the details. I must warn you that it’s a long story because I wanted to be thorough, so make sure you have plenty of time to read it in its entirety. My friend Austin needed to go to France to do some research for an essay he’s writing. Naturally, I invited myself along because I love France, and it was my birthday weekend. I couldn’t imagine a better way to face the reality of being too old to be called a young single adult anymore than by getting some hot French action, even though at that point I didn’t expect it to actually happen.
Another of Austin’s friends, Maggie, came along as well and we began our adventure in the early hours of Thursday morning. By the time we got to our hotel, I looked like death, but I tried to make myself look presentable because part of the plan was to stop by Institute for a little while. Unfortunately, there’s only so much you can do when you’ve been up since 2:30 in the morning, but I did my best. Since Maggie doesn’t understand French and had never been to Paris before, I figured Institute would be a waste of time so we wandered around town for a while.
When we got back everyone was headed to get something to eat, so we tagged along to…McDonald’s, which is not on the top of my list of places to eat in France. Well, all’s well that ends well, though, because our time at Chez McDo (as they call it in France) made it possible for me to meet…the Cheetah, so named because of his speed and stealth. We were on our way back to the hotel when we met up with a group of the YSA who had gone to Subway instead. They were traveling to the same area of town so we tagged along. As Maggie and I weren’t competent French speakers, most of the group ignored us, except for one young man. At first I thought he was just being friendly and chatty, in the way Church members are. He served his mission in Provo so we had a lot to talk about. In the course of our discussion I mentioned that it was my birthday and he asked how I was going to celebrate. Still thinking he was just being nice, I mentioned that we hadn’t really made plans, to which he responded that perhaps he could put something together. I assumed that he meant for the whole group of us, but realized by the time we got off the train that I had essentially made a date with a Frenchman. I was caught totally off guard by the whole thing. He was very slick. More on that later. I didn’t hear from him on Friday like I was supposed to, so I wrote him off as a flake and decided he must have changed his mind. Then he called on Saturday afternoon. He told me something had come up and that he probably wasn’t going to be able to get together that night, but that he would call me later if he had time because he really wanted to do something with just me. He never called. So again, I chalked it up to lame boy-ness and moved on.
We went to Church the next morning at his ward. I was looking as hot as I could while living out of a suitcase just to let him know what he had missed out on. Well, we went to Sunday School where the Cheetah shockingly and not so sneakily pulled the old sharing-scriptures-hand-hold. I was a bit surprised by his utter ballsy-ness to just go for it in front of everyone else in the class. Meanwhile, I decided there was really nothing for me to lose. I wasn’t going to see any of them again and if they thought I was a tramp, oh well. So, I flirted shamelessly throughout Sunday School and was feeling pretty sure he was into me. Then we went to Sacrament meeting where he sat next to me and luckily didn’t try anything sneaky. Sunday School is one thing, but I’m no Sacrament meeting hussy. The Cheetah asked what the plan was for the rest of the day and invited himself to come along to spend the afternoon in Paris, which I was totally okay with.
After Church I hung around waiting for him to give me some sort of clue as to where we stood and got nothing. Eventually, I asked him if he still wanted to come to Paris and he said he couldn’t because of some activity they were having that night. Luckily I didn’t really care too much at this point. I was moderately attracted to him and wanted to make out with him, but there was no real long-term interest. If there had been, I would have been crushed by his aloofness and seeming indifference. As it was, I was just confused. Anyway, it finally came time to actually leave and he walked me to the car. I mentioned that we were going to have to probably settle for McDonald’s for dinner whereupon he suggested that we could come to his house for dinner, which is what I had sort of been trying to finagle all along. Since he conveniently had no ride home, he had to come with us. Maggie had already crawled into the back seat, which was full of our stuff. He not so subtly suggested that she sit up front and he would share the back seat with me, even though logically it should have been Maggie since she’s at least half my size. Maggie graciously took one for the team. I climbed into the back seat where I was basically forced to sit in his lap, which made the Cheetah’s next move much more convenient. We had been in the car all of two minutes when his had found it’s way onto my upper thigh. Again, I was shocked by his brazenness but didn’t care at all. He then cleverly placed his suit jacket over his lap so we could hold hands undetected.
Once we reached the house he busied himself with helping to make dinner and once we were called to the table, made his brother’s fiancée switch places with him so he could be next to me for some more clandestine hand holding, which I’m sure everyone detected. After dinner, we were preparing to leave and Austin and Maggie had already gone outside. Meanwhile, the Cheetah and I were having a fairly awkward “I’m pretty sure you want to kiss me and I’m all for it, but you’re not doing it so I’ll just make small talk” conversations. I eventually just gave him the customary French cheek kisses and started to leave. That’s when the Cheetah pounced and lost no time in getting down to business. Unfortunately one of the other dinner guests chose that time to walk around the corner. To be fair we were standing right inside the front door, so the chances of being caught were pretty high. I was slightly embarrassed, but the (for me) dangerous phrase “What have I got to lose?” struck again. I have realized that phrase should probably be removed from my usage. It gets me into a lot of trouble.
Anyway, we kept kissing until the brother’s fiancée walked out of the kitchen and I decided we needed a different location. So we went down the hall where there was a little more privacy for the Cheetah’s next move, which I will not go into here, as this is still a family friendly website. After several minutes of good solid snogging in the hall, we went to his bedroom, which is probably where I should have stopped him. Unfortunately that little voice in my head said “What have I got to lose?” again and [edited by the writer for inappropriate content]. We made out there for a few minutes and then it was time for me to go. He walked me to the door for the second time and we kissed goodbye. I went out to the car where my poor friends had been waiting for what I’m sure seemed like ages and recounted the story to them as we drove off. I doubt I’ll ever see him again, but that’s kind of how I like it and it sure did make for a great birthday.
