Vive le Vin

Parlez-vous Francais?

It’s funny that the last thing I wrote about was being a teenager. I thought I felt like a teenager because I was with one. Now I realise, my oft quoted "you’re only as old as you feel" is true! Now, I’m nearing 30 (how near, I will not say) but as long as I pass off for 25 – I like to think, anyway! (sometimes 21 when the person complimenting me is being charming) I will only admit to that much! I will not give in and feel the old woman when there’s plenty of beans in me yet! (the jumping lima beans kind)

The man in question (at long last, a man and not a boy!) is 34…. But let me start at the beginning. The last time I had a crush - (oh, gawd, who could forget Mr. "Do you know how big my feet are") it ended in such a ridiculous manner. So you can understand why I’ve been rather hesitant about writing about anything that starts out with such girlish hope and naivete when experience shows that it usually ends in disaster.

That’s why the Philosopher or Jailbait or Rex, even…. They never made these pages until it was all over. No happily ever afters as yet, so its back to Square One for me. There have been a few men since I came back to Malaysia (well, 3 to be exact, 3 in 7 months!) – that I’d at least been attracted to, but nothing really came out of it. Interesting enough stories, but they were over with so quickly, I hadn’t had a chance to post.

But Zizou has lasted 3 weeks now, so one must hope … I know for a fact I will see him for a further 7 weeks, even if nothing comes out of it. But what of these 3 first weeks full of SIGNS? There’s a bloody game of tug-of-war going on, and I’m not sure yet who’s going to come out the winner.

Of course, if I win – well, then … we could both be winners;) (yes, my vow of celibacy went right out the window when I first clapped eyes on him. Anyway, I’ve paid my dues! 7 months now and counting!).

Lets start at the very beginning now, shall we? I’d finally decided to do something with my life. Just sitting around and moaning about not being in Europe and having work worries on top of everything was just getting too damned old! I’m not someone who sits around and complains about my lot in life (well, not for too long, at any rate!) without doing something about it!

Well, granted, the action came about 6 months later, but at least the long-awaited unfurling of my wings has reminded how much fun flying can be! I’ve found a new circle of friends whose company I very much enjoy, and we do things I’d only ever thought about doing! They have certainly reinstated my joie de vivre …. and I thank them for it. Life is indeed for the living!

I’ve restarted my French classes. After umming and er-ring for ages … I finally decided I was going to take the bull by the horns and master this language once and for all. I know if I’m to go where I plan to go, I need to parle le francais tres bien!

So there I was, on my first day … (being reminded me very much of my first day of - well, school or anywhere! And worse, a girl’s school!) There were mostly women (big surprise!) and all looking nervously at one another, sizing each other up. Who’d be Queen Bee? Who’d be the class monitor? Prefect? Geek? The most popular boy in class?

Que the testosterone!

The men walked in together, all in a row. It really was like a meat parade. Not that any of them were all that good looking, but they were all young and not bad looking! And all male! I looked my fair share as well, but I wasn’t at all hopeful. I’d taken French for years now, and none of my teachers had been the kind that conjures up visions of a paramour Francais. (Moet, they weren’t.)

And then he walks in.

Tall (check), dark (check), and omg, handsome – triple check! He was dressed all in white like a Davidoff model on a beach shoot (I’d say Calvin Klein black and white beach shot, but my thoughts weren’t the PG13 kind). White linen shirt and trousers to match … and beautifully tanned feet in sandals. Oh la la!

He looked like Zidane. But with hair … and a tan. He was almost as brown as any Malaysian you may see walking down the street. Delightfully so. I couldn’t take my eyes off the Zidane type piercing stare.

I thought, no way. NFW, will God be so kind and gift this to me.

And who walks into my classroom? With a name as romantic and as French as he looked?

OMFG!