Paris in 2012 meant a lot of instagraming with an HTC Android. I was new to instagram and loved the android phone camera so I went InstaHappy. Let me tell you about how I spent my 30th birthday in the most romantic city in the world...
I went August 2012 with my Fiancé at the time. Yes I was engaged. We went to the most romantic city in the entire world. Paris. I won't share his name but let's call him The Spaniard. The Spaniard was a good man with a heart of gold. He asked me to pack my bags and off we were to Paris for a week from Spain. I had no idea where we were going. Paris on whim is incredible. I was surrounded by everything I love: Art, Books, Music, Love, Outdoor Markets, Macarons, Mimes, Salsa on the River, Museums, a spontaneous hair cut, DIY sandwiches under the Eiffel Tower and long walks through the perfectly lit city.
I always thought I could live in Paris. I desired it. It truly is the city for an artist. It could feed me passion. Inspiration for new projects and idea were everywhere. It is the type of city that would support my ideas. This is all in theory of course. Paris in many ways reminds of The Spaniard. He is passionate, ever-giving, selfless, a true hopeless romantic, and supported my passions which could change daily. He was beautiful inside and out.
He showered me with romance in hopes of making love to me. I, on the other hand, kept forcing myself to think of all the reasons why I should stay with him because all I wanted to do was end it. It was on my mind 24/7; some days more than others. With each kiss I felt I had to return, I had to actively think of one thing I loved about him. Just ONE. And when it would come down to making love, I would suddenly have an ailment of some sort. Everyday I was ill with something else, cramps, stomach ache, migraine. You name it, I had it.
Everything (else) was going great on this trip. I loved every moment of it except for the fact that we didn't have an actual itinerary. It was a surprise on his end but had I known, I would have scouted tickets for I don't know, The Louvre, for instance. But we got there on a Tuesday. Tuesdays they are closed. He made it up it in other ways. We went shopping, site seeing, had Parisian bites, saw an excellent tribute to Michael Jackson. Again, everything was going great and I was really feeling it, us, the relationship. We popped a bottle of champagne to celebrate the big 3-0. We laughed and held hands until he decided it would be his lucky night. 3 days in Paris and we still hadn't made love. He physically expressed his desire for me. He asked me this time. His words killed me.
"Carino mio, deje que te haga el amor, por favor, dejame amor."
I tried my hardest to love him back, physically. I started slowly by closing my eyes and remembering our beautiful days in Paris. I thought this could be my way to show him I appreciated him and my way of trying to work this out. Would the sparks come back again? By kissing him softly, I hoped the passion would find its way back to me. My drunken lips made their way around his body with soft kisses. He would grab me to pull in me closer. Asphyxiated. I couldn't breath now. Each time I pushed to pull away only so he would come closer to me. I turned up the passion thinking I'm in Paris for f*ck's sake. I need to make love to this man who loves me so much. We deserve this. As I made my way downtown, I had the sudden urge to vomit. Everything came to a hard stop. The cliche saying is true after all. We cannot force things.
As unusual, absurd and uncommon as it would be, I did it. With tears in my eyes and a confused heart (because selfishly I wanted to stay with him forever and because he was in fact a good good man), I told him I was not in love with him anymore.
"No te quiero como tu me quieres a mi. No estoy enamorada de ti. Perdoname por favor. No te enfades conmigo amor. Por favor te lo pido."
We cried together and he asked me a lot of questions. Most of my answers were vague because I didn't have real answers to give him. We sat in bed talking about all the reasons why we should make it work and tried to figure out how would do it. The Eiffel Tower was in perfect view. It was so beautiful. It was also so sad. Together we decided we had to make the very best out of this trip. Thankfully, over the years we had formed a real friendship within our relationship and we truly did loved one another and perhaps because we were both actors we really knew how to communicate.
Our relationship did not end there. Relentless is the word I would use to describe The Spaniard. Giving up just wasn't his thing. I made my way back to the United States. The saga definitely didn't end there. It continued.
Actually, it continued for a few years in which he tried even harder. I lied to myself again after he successfully convinced me with his efforts to try one more time. I lied to him each time we tried. I hurt him time and time again by unsuccessfully falling in love with all his beautiful qualities. For this, Paris, just like my ex, will always bring me a bittersweet memory. I loved being "there" but it just wasn't for me.
Au Revoir Paris. Tu es belle.