The Way We Were

Almost exactly 10 years ago I met "the one that kind of got away but all-in-all that's definitely better for my emotional stability" at a mutual friend's small dinner party. She said "Please come for dinner, an old school friend is in town on business and my husband hates him. He's arrogant, opinionated, narcissistic and will only speak en français unless another American is present." I'm a good friend. I had recently purchased my little 2 bedroom condo and was in the throes of face-lifting it with paint and such. I remember I had worked and worked all day and realized that I only had about 30 minutes to spare to shower and dress. I didn't have enough time to think about what I should wear, I didn't have enough time to check and re-check my hair and makeup in the mirror, I just went with whatever was clean and closest to me, after all, who would dress up for arrogant, opinionated and narcissistic? I went to the dinner, begrudgingly, thinking "she owes me one" on the drive over.

Of course, it was like a moment out of a novel, or a scene out of some drippy Nora Ephron film (not that there's anything wrong with that.) Time stood still, it was one of those instant connection things. My friend and her husband were invisible to us and when we left them behind hours later to go out for a nightcap, I recall looking back down the stairs to them and mouthed an overly-dramatic "OH, MY GOD, THANK YOU!" to her astonished face.

I can't get over how young I was then. And, strangely, how so very similar to my 2009 self I was. Though I now know a whole lot more in general about the world and being a grownup, we still share the same tastes. French Culture, French Food, French Men are the obvious front runners but a lot of my other day-to-day loves are the same. Will probably always be the same. I love the smell of babies. I love apricots and nectarines. I LOVE good pastries and the smell of brewing coffee. I love sunshine and trees and walking around, fresh air, my family, music, Brontë novels and other great tomes, fashion mags, classic movies, laughing with my sister, drinking champagne, jeans that fit oh-so-well and sweaters that make me feel like I'm wrapped up in a big hug. So if we're still the same essence of one girl, then why do I feel so far away from that innocent naif?

This must be the frustration of aging; I don't feel a day over 24. A decade has passed but it seems like only yesterday. I remember what I wore, what he wore, what they served for dinner, what we drank. I remember using the Laguiole steak knives that were a wedding present to the happy couple. It's like that day is frozen in time. Is this nostalgia or insanity?

I don't really pine for him specifically, I think it's for who we were at the time. What I thought we would develop into. We're still in touch; he's wealthy, lives in a beautiful Haussmannian building in Etienne Marcel, has had two adorable children with a beautiful and energetic Parisian woman whom I quite like. And quite envy, if I'm being fully honest. He works a lot (don't believe the "French don't work" myth) but they also travel a lot and he is very devoted to his family.

Maybe it seems like only yesterday to me because one side of our little relationship really grew up and moved on where the other side (moi) has spent years daydreaming about Mr. Charmant and what might have been. And the real kicker? I ended it! On Valentine's Day, no less. Maybe I'm some kind of relationship bozo but I thought I could do better than an opinionated narcissist, Parisian or not. Little did I know that opinions and narcissism are the modern equivalent of snips and snails and puppy dog tails: that's what men are made of.

C'est la vie, I guess.

He asked to see me about a month from now but I will be away on vacation. Still dissing him after all these years...what a foolish gal.