Croissant and Cocktails: The Sex Tales of a Frenchman in London

1 - A few calls from the past (November 2021)

I went back to Paris for my birthday. I woke up tired as I had only had a few hours of sleep. I checked my phone and remembered it was actually my birthday. Between missed calls, WhatsApp messages, voice notes, Instagram posts and stories, Facebook posts, and a big headache, I finally turned 28. I had sex with my friend Dakarai the previous night and ordered Cocaine and Prosecco for everyone. It was a surprise birthday party, with a cake, organized by my best friend Gabriel. Blair, Carolina, and Amari were there as well. The night was definitely wild and fun. After a fast morning, I headed to St Pancras to catch my Eurostar. I remember having in mind that The Pattern app said a couple of days ago that I would be confronted with my past to see how far I've come through.

I wanted but couldn't sleep in the train. A mix of excited feelings to go back to Paris but also that hangover that I clearly couldn't bear like the ones before. I attempted to pursue my reading of "Eat, Pray, Love" but once again I couldn't concentrate enough. The two and a half hours felt long, but I finally arrived at 19:47 Paris time. It was difficult to find a cab, so after yelling at a few drivers who would either tell me to fuck off or that they were only going to the suburb, I decided that I would walk to my friend Célia's place in Pigalle, which is quite close to the train station but felt far with my 30kg suitcase. My ex texted me in the morning for my birthday, saying that I was a special person and that I deserved "fab things." I replied nicely, but even though we were separated and not really talking, it was nice. I was trying to not think and talk about it at all. It was done and it was still too painful.

I met my friends Colette, Kevin, and Julien at Célia's place. Then Emma, the sister of my photographer friend Giulia in London, joined us in a bar for a quick drink to celebrate me. Montmartre is always so beautiful and full of life. Emma made a little scene at the restaurant concerning the terrace's tables, but I didn't really pay attention as I wanted to be inside anyway. She left after one drink and we then moved to the Rochechouart Hotel to have dinner. We all went home after taking a few pictures on the rooftop of the hotel that possesses a beautiful landscape of Paris and its landmarks.

Célia, as real estate agent, was working on Wednesday, but Kevin took his day off to spend the day with me. He was down my building in Pigalle at 11:30 am sharp. We went for a long walk all day, passing by the 17th arrondissement, the Champs-Élysées, the Tuileries and stopped for a Mugler Fashion exhibition at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs before going for a drink in Le Marais. We reminded each other about our lives in Paris back in the years, but we also spoke about our future and the adults we have become. I went back to Célia's place for a chill night with her. She made a tartiflette, which is basically potatoes, onions, lardons, and tons of cheese. It was the only night that we would have together as from the next day my little sister Victoria, my high school friend Charlotte, and my British friends would also come to Paris. Until the next Sunday, Célia and I would not have a private moment and an entire night to talk like the old times. Like I had with Kevin that day. I had decided to talk about my last relationship. I mean the last important one, as I have had a couple of meaningless stories lasting for a few weeks in between. The one with M. About my first anxiety experience ever that this breakup caused me, how I hardly made my way back to a happy life and how I still had strong feelings for him. She, as usual, was more than helpful and asked me the right questions, that nobody else asked me. Which simply was "what's the point? And what do you want from him, today?" She understood that we both have hurt each other and we were both protecting ourselves from the other. That now was finally the real time to move on. It made sense for the first time. Maybe it was her words, maybe it was Paris, but I felt relieved like I haven't been in a long time. We also talked about her love life that was chaotic but actually quite fun to live. She explained what was happening between her and her close friend (that also is an ex-date) having sex, but she also spoke about another guy that she really likes. She said that the close friend was really a friend, with all the best intentions but they have some sort of relationship that they would never consume as a couple. I understood it and said "be careful" to her. That it would be best to have fun and to talk more to the guy that she really likes. After this, we just watched the full moon passing behind the Eiffel Tower from her balcony and went to sleep.
Thursday morning, I woke up quite late. It was the 11th of November, a bank holiday in France, so Célia was at home, editing some invoices for her business. After a quick shower and a hookup with a guy from Grindr in a shop, Kevin arrived at Célia's place to come with me to welcome my sister and Charlotte in a bar in Montmartre. The afternoon went by quite fast; I saw the girls and my friend Clara from London arrived at 4 pm. We all went to the place I used to always go to when I was still living in Paris. It's called Le Valois, nearby the Blanche Tube Station in the 9th. We had a couple of cocktails with my friend Cameron who joined us for a few hours. It was supposed to be a short night. Well, it wasn't. When Cameron left, Clara went to pick up my dear friend John from London while we went to Le Marais at the Café Voulez-vous. My friend Edouard joined us with a friend of his. We were quite a team, and the British arrived a little bit later. I can't properly remember but we drank a few bottles and had some shots leading us to another place, the Raidd Bar. THE tourist gay place in Paris, that I don't especially like, but here we were. Few left and after some more drinks, it was just Charlotte, Kevin, and me at the Cud club. This part is very blurry in my mind, but I do remember Kevin and I kissing. A lot. It did not happen that many times, but this is not a first. I've always loved him truly and deeply but somehow; we both know we're too different to be together. It actually doesn't make any sense; this is just a love that can't be expressed. I remember being jealous but I don't remember my reaction when he kissed another guy. I know we talked outside of the club; I don't remember about what. I think I probably told him that our love was forever even though it could never be expressed. But besides him, nobody will ever know as this is not a topic that we bring up. He's very good at being silent, and to be honest on this one, I'm very glad he is.