The last four months. Part II: Getting in trouble

The problem with fantasies is that they belong to the realms of the unreal, the untouchable. Their power is your longing, their beauty is your crave, but as soon as they become real and they're no longer out of your reach, you feel all was vanity and chasing the wind. If there is no record of the discovery of a real unicorn, it is probably because if anyone ever found one and took it home, they eventually realized it was just a horse with a horn, shitting all over their yard, and out of embarrassment they didn't tell anybody.Those who got to spend a night with Marilyn Monroe woke up with a woman with messier hair and a character harder to handle than they had thought. Look at that poster boy you drool over and think of the next day after taking him home when he shouts that he's run out of toilet paper and you enter the bathroom to hand him some more before he flushes. You wouldn't mind? Well, maybe that's love, not just a fantasy...

A head taller than me, dark chocolate skin, lean muscle showing through a black tank top, his shaved head sticking above the crowd in the club, and those big, dark eyes meeting mine and holding the stare. Too many party queens on the dance floor to make it easy to dance, I was getting pushed by everybody around me, I gave him a shy smile, I got pushed once again and rolled my eyes, and with a subtle hand gesture he invited me to join him and made some space for me. We exchanged our random first words and I caressed his hand slightly, he smiled and held mine. I saw his dentist had some work to deal with, but the sight of his tongue curving against the gap of his front teeth just turned me on even more.

My boyfriend had dumped me earlier that week, I was feeling abandoned, unattractive and unable to move on, and all of a sudden I had that piece of African splendor paying me some attention. It was a joke of destiny, or the kind of cheap way of trying to save a show after some alarming November sweeps: enter the hottie. This one was a mix of Mehcad Brooks and French TV journalist Harry Roselmack. Kudos to the casting department.

You heard well, that was when my boyfriend had dumped me. A hot summer night during our short break-up before the attempt of reconciliation and my turn to dump him. Everybody scream: SLUT!

In my defense, technically my beau and I weren't together, so that wasn't cheating, and the African Prince and I didn't do much more than flirting and kissing. It was fun, but I got irritated by the Parisian gay bitches coming between us every five minutes to steal my new date, drink thrown at my back out of jealousy included. I met him again the next evening, but then he paid more attention to his friends than to me and I got a couple red alerts, like signs of huge ego, macho attitude and not the slightest intention of getting his wallet out to pay for drinks. The next day, I called him to tell him nicely that I couldn't go on seeing him, because I wasn't totally over my recent break-up and I needed time on my own. He said that he understood and that whenever I felt ready I could call him to see if he was still available.

Days later, I found myself going back to my beau, who claimed he hadn't really meant to break up but only to give me a lesson (hello?), but the reconciliation didn't happen to be such either. When I announced it was over, I did mention vaguely that I had flirted a little bit during the break-up, but I made it clear that I wasn't dumping him for anyone else.

Which was true, even if I kinda started dating the African Prince little after my new ex flew back to the States. Everybody scream: SLUT!

As soon as he'd landed in New York, my ex had been sending me veiled hateful messages through Facebook updates and messages, which I could sort of justify because of the pain he had to be feeling, but which still looked unfair, as I'd done everything I could to end things as smoothly as possible, considering my own share of suffering. The whole process leading to the break-up had been way too long and I felt he didn't have the right to affect me anymore. I wanted so badly to move on, to start walking the next stretch of my path without him in the picture. And deep inside, I was so scared of giving in and calling him to say "Please take me back" just out of fear of being alone...

When I texted the African hottie, I didn't have dating in mind. I just wanted to get some fun to shake all the gloomy thoughts away. But he didn't reply in the next hour, actually he didn't reply at all that day. That night, I decided to go chill in Le Marais. I got in the first bar, ordered a beer, I turned my back and, who did I see? Him. Sometimes destiny likes repeating the joke, just in case you didn't get it.