Vodka Vow

Lead me not into temptation – I can find the way myself!

Well, it’s proven now…. Patience is certainly not one of my virtues! It has been 3 weeks now. 3 weeks since that French speaking (or should I say French teaching!) Love God walked into my life.

3 weeks full of signs and no resolution in sight. 3 weeks where I’ve been living on my nerves. Honestly, it’s like an addiction. I cannot remember the last time fancying someone took this much energy! Of course…. its not a mere crush, it’s a full-fledged obsession. I’ve got to have him!

I think the vow of celibacy has totally backfired on me. I have to feed the beast. And she’s mad as hell!

Here’s a summary of the last 3 weeks -3 very long and painful 3 weeks!

Week 1. He kept looking at me. He kept touching me. The touchy feeli-less may well have been very student teacher appropriate, but for his good looks and my raging (haven’t-got-some-in-far-too-long) hormones fuelled imagination.

I kept looking back.

Unfortunately, that’s all that happened. But really, do you rest your whole arm on someone’s to write on their notes? He didn’t to the girl next to me. And when I refused to say my age (C’est un secret!) he nodded in understanding and winked at me! Be still my beating heart.

During the course of the lesson, he said how he lived all alone. A man on his own. And when he tried to give examples for the lesson, he described an ordinary day for a man living on his own. How when he reaches home (alone) … he takes off his shirt (flash, tanned, flat stomach) and balls it up and throws it away.

And proceeds to do the same with his trousers.

Since, you know – he was alone and all.

My mouth was dry, and I believe my jaw hit the floor. So much sexual tension, I tell you! I certainly hope shagging a student is not against the rules. This has GOT to happen.

Fast forward to Week 2. I'll quickly scoot past the bit where he encased my chair (with me in it!) while trying to "aid" the girl next to me. I was a puddle on the floor by this time. I knew exactly what it would be like to be caught up in those giant arms of his ....

When it came to our break, he shoved his cigarettes in my face. Stupid, STUPID me, just automatically shook my head, stupidly murmuring "I don’t smoke." He looked crestfallen. I was surprised. He gestured (he speaks French, I speak English … there’s a lot of gesturing! If he met me in a darkened nightclub, I would be speaking in the finest body language ever. However, it was daylight, and we were bound by the rules of propriety. Not to mention decency.) in a "Are you sure?" kind of way. I couldn’t give him my come-on 2 vices talk (alcohol and boys.) in French, so I just had to kind of … gesture a "No, thanks,"

And off he went on his lonesome self.

I can be sooo stupid sometimes. The Philosopher and I had language problems, but nothing compared to this!!!

At the end of the class – he had hung on to my pen, so I asked for it back, citing that it was my favourite pen. (I can say that perfectly in French, and was very proud). He leapt off his chair (I guess not just 20 year olds have that kind of energy) and excitedly kept chattering with me about the pen. How it was "c’est une brand superbe" and OMG, we have so much in common, yadda yadda yadda.

Mont Blanc, it certainly wasn’t. (Pilot)

Unfortunately, that was the extent of my French. So gulping back all the flirtatious lines I would have had in a second, had we be able to speak in English (Frustratingly, my natural talent was hugely crippled!) I could just look at him dumbly and utter simply … "Er, yes … and could I please have it back?"

Maybe he felt I rejected him? Later on, I bumped into him on the way to my car. Desperate for a last ditch attempt to make things right …. I opened my mouth … and ended up asking him some stupid admin question.

In English.

And just as formally, he spoke back to me. And that was that.

Sigh.

I was full of hope today (start of Week 3). Today was the day, I told myself. Either I get a date, or get asked my phone number or MAKE SOME PROGRESS.

When we were talking about an example that had to do with ironing of clothes, he gestured to his thigh, and smoothened down his trousers. My eyes were, still there, trained to the spot he bloody well pointed out as he continued. He’s a "boy", so he doesn’t iron (living alone and all), hence his trousers are crumpled. But look at my (point to smooth, clean lines on my jeans, thankfully, my dark blue denim ones that make my thighs look so much smaller and contained that they actually are). He didn’t actually touch my thigh … but … well; it all felt very real to me!

Damn him all to hell and back, now I can’t stop thinking about his hand, ON my thigh!

Later on, when queried about an assignment I wasn’t too sure of, he confirmed. "Yes, you have to write a story. A love story." Yeah, baby you and me! ;)

Further on, he was explaining something to me that was at a more advanced level to my class. And he goes, "well, just between you and me" … bla bla bla. His explanation was lost on me as I concentrated on exactly what it is that could be between "vous et moi".

"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself." -Oscar Wilde-