March 9, 2011
Spring is right around the corner, which makes me reminisce about last spring, when I headed to Paris and fell seriously in L-O-V-E. And not with a charming wine bar, or a crooked side street, or a crazy-flavored macaron—but this time, with a real live man. How novel!
I didn’t really know what I was getting into when I left my apartment that morning, but by evening, it was clear that I was on a first date with the soon-to-be love of my life. We had hung out a few times before, but (save for the hideous fluorescent lights that signal closing time at La Perle) always under the cover of night. It had been all moonlight and streetlamps and the dull glow of limestone against the black Parisian sky. Under those conditions, I could pretty much have fallen in love with a rabid possum.