Paris, France ... and I do nothing

I sit here in Paris France, 11:10 in the evening, Normally one would be getting ready or already hailing a cab to go to a club or whatever. As a gay man from Canada, and my heart was in it earlier, one would think I'd definately be trying to hit up the gay clubs of good ol' Paris. But no, not me. Not this time. Kind of a waste when you realise that I'm leaving tomorrow back to Germany and Paris will no longer be in arms length. And considering my financial situations and personal spending habits, Paris may never be in arms length ever again. So why aren't I trying my best in getting to the gay clubs and trying to experience gay cultcha in a foriegn land?

Well, I'm tired. As a chaperone I have to "set an example" for the younglings that are on the trip with me. And since this is supposed to be a church group, me going to a gay club will most likely BLOW their mind. But is that really the case. No. Me going to clubs alone ... well theirs just something sad in that. Something that I personally can't evercome at this moment. For me, it takes time to rid myself of self-pity. Unfortunately time is nothing I have.

But the main reason. My mind has been preoccupied with something else. Something else that takes me away from the problems or everyday situations that one goes through, well, everyday. And this something is actually a someone. Total infatuation with someone who is the sexiest, most confident, most handsome man to ever walk this earth. No one has ever been on my mind like he has. There has been no one that I ever thought of in such away in regards to possibilities of the future. And for a long time I thought that such a feeling would never exist for me. I'm glad to say that I was wrong.

And I keep thinking about him too. His smile that just sucks you right in. His sexy voice. His consistently well maintained haircut. His husky body weight when he presses up against me. His eyes and the way they sparkle (okay, now that one was just cliched) when I look into them. And the way his smiles gets bigger when he catches me staring at him, or so it seems.

Here I sit in the most beautiful city in the world (up for debate), and I find myself thinking about the most beautiful man in the world (never up for debate).

Is this what love is? Is this what an infatuation is? This is a first for me so I can't tell. As many of my readers may know (okay, so I may not have that many, but I have to boost my ego somehow), I usually write about depressing, serious shit.

Well, whatever this is, I'm glad I'm feeling it. Even if I don't know whether or not we'll be together.