Day 71: Have Weenie Envy.

I had a drink with Monsieur Flâneur tonight. I know, bad news. And as usual, he made it as difficult as possible to actually see the plans through. Plans that he had orchestrated if not insisted on. Our plan was to have dinner at 10:00 which turned into me storming into his restaurant irritated at 11:00pm due to the fact that I had not heard from him. He blamed his lack of communication on the fact that the restaurant was busy and just hearing his bullshit reminded me of what it used to be like with him. Annoying; where nothing was his fault and he had no control over being a responsible human being who honors commitment. Thank god I never had children with this guy. He would totally miss recitals. 
After getting over the irritation that I had to force him to follow through on his promise, we walked over to Le Chinon to have some drinks and to catch up. Just as we were getting settled in with a glass of red for me and a vodka on the rocks for him, my subletter, ma petite New Yorkaise who is me; circa 2009 walked by and moments later, his little brother Garçon Flâneur. We invited them both to join us which created a colorful group of Franglais at the table as we all made an effort to keep the conversation light in order to ignore the pink elephants who were trying to creep in the situation. To add to the festivities, I called my best friend Belle who I met in 1990 and who was celebrating her 30th in New York at her 6th annual 'Weenies and Bikinis' extravaganza. A festival of barbecued delicacies around her Mom's pool, amazing music and enough cocktails to tickle everyone's fancy. I could hear the cheer and vibrance in the background of her family who I adore and friends that I have not seen in years. I wished I was there. I handed the phone over to MF to wish her a happy birthday and he kept wishing her a 'Happy Cake'.
After several drinks, the night was coming to a close and everyone was ready to call it a night. We walked Mlle. New Yorkaise to my, I mean her door and MF walked me to Phil's door. At Phil's apartment building door, I wanted to make our depart from each other short and simple. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and said goodbye and was inching to shut the door when he pressed it open again. The light from the street lamp revealed slow tears rolling down his cheek. Oh man. This is what I was avoiding because when I saw his tears, mine jumped on board and followed suit where we were both standing in between the doors crying. I asked him why he was crying and he said, slightly choked up 'Parce que je t'aime' and then quickly accused himself of being drunk and corrected himself saying that he loved me. Passé Composé. It was painful. I told him that I would never understand the reason for the break-up. Maybe one day, I will. Not wanting to go further with the conversation, I gave him a kiss on the cheek and closed the door, feeling exasperated...
...and wishing I was at 'Weenies and Bikinis'. Part 6.
Le Chinon
56, rue des Archives
75004 Paris