Let us begin with Maxime. He seemed to be holding out a romantic fantasy of a spontaneous marriage. I suspected that I am far more reckless and up for romantic adventure than he is, so I thought it would be fun to start testing. I started picking out wedding packages in the Bahamas (I so want one of those), sent him links to long, dreary pre-marital counselling courses in London and asked him if he’d told his parents he was engaged. Ha ha, it was great. He tried to keep up but became uncomfortable. He said his parents wouldn’t care who he married (I think this unlikely) but he’d sent a message to his best friend to announce that he had found The One. I was just on the point of suggesting that we go ring shopping and consider waiting to have sex until after the wedding, when he cracked under the pressure and started getting to the point, which was that he did want sex after all and in fact had a shopping list of racy activities that he regarded as achievements and wanted to accomplish, this being the actual point of his messages to me. I knew it. I knew it all along. I mocked him and he stopped texting me. Job done. A pity, he was really good looking.
And now, a few more photos of Paris, and we will come to news of Alain in due course.
Paris was great. I was only there for three nights but several exciting things happened. I did some excellent business in Paris, finished one work project and secured a new contract for another. I took up drinking. I no longer drink, in my everyday life in London. I am more sensitive to alcohol than I used to be and only a small amount can give me an appalling hangover. To my surprise, I find that this doesn’t apply in other countries. I don’t know why. I can go to France or Chile or somewhere and sit in the blazing sun in the middle of the day, drink half a bottle of wine with lunch and think nothing of it. It was great. While in Paris, I drank a lot of Bordeaux. When I wasn’t eating out, I lived on Camembert, white peaches and strawberries. I did very little sight-seeing. I spent a lot of time in this utterly charming little room that I rented and this was because, unlike Chile, you can’t make love in the park. You have to stay indoors for that.
You will notice that so far, in the epic romance known as Starry Skies, I have had absolutely no sex. There was one kiss at the tube station after I had dinner with Harry and that was it. It was time to remedy that. I received a visit from Alain, in fact he came every day, for three days.
Alain fell in love with me in London in 2015 and we had not seen each other since then. We kept in touch in between for business reasons and because I cannot fail to be interested in a man who is in love with me. I told him I was coming to Paris. He said he would like to have dinner with me. Plans evolved from there. Eventually the result was that he appeared in my tiny French room, in the evening. We sat at the table, in front of that window, and talked about business and generally caught up. Then we stood up, to go out for some reason, probably to get coffee or wine. We stood facing each other. He’s young. He’s slim. He’s wearing his bag over his shoulder, ready to go out. He’s staring at me very intently and we are exactly the same height, so we are eye to eye. Time stops. Both of us lean in, about one millimetre each. Then we kiss. Then, without saying anything, we take off our clothes and lie down on the bed, where we spend much of the next couple of days.
We came to know each other very well over that weekend. He just wanted to make love, it was really that simple. People in London are a bit obsessed with sex. Like Maxime, they often have a list of achievements that they are trying to fulfil, or they’re tamely experimenting with some kind of kink, or they’re building up the world’s largest collection of sex toys. Alain could not have been more removed from this culture. It was not his opinion that sex with someone who you’ve loved for two years needs to be equivalent to sport. He just wanted to make love, in a completely straightforward, unspoiled way that focuses on engaging with your partner and not on some irrelevant checklist with accompanying hardware. It was amazing, he did me a lot of good, I felt like I’d been to a spa. It was very cleansing and refreshing. We did a lot of gazing into each other’s eyes, kissing, saying each other’s names, giving massages. I felt renewed.
Not surprisingly, after three days of that, we’d formed quite a bond and saying goodbye was hard. I cried and we spoke a mixture of English and French (I know more French than I think I do, when the occasion demands). He said “I will remember this weekend for the rest of my life.” Then he went back to his life in France, as we planned, and I had one morning left in Paris and then I needed to go back to London to see Harry and get on with some work.
After I arrived home in London, Alain emailed me to say thank you. He said he’d found a new confidence because of being with me. I was touched.