Column 37: ‘He came all the way from Paris for a date!’ † Sex & relationships

The language of love is international, but you only notice that you are really going crazy when you think you have to look beyond the borders of your charming prince. As if among all the millions of men in our small country there could not be one guy who turns out to quack the right tone. However, I was so far away recently. I had created an account on Raya. Not just any dating app, but a very exclusive one that you have to be ‘someone’ (successful, famous) to be engaged. A kind of Soho House among dating apps for the rich and famous, where one can for example encounter guys like James Franco or John Mayer.

You are therefore not just accepted, but I have quite a few followers on TikTok and through an influential friend (an existing Raya member) managed to get my own profile up and running. From your Raya Yippie Yippie Jee …

cold fair

I made it, let the game begin! But it quickly turned out that Raya was not quite as ‘popping’ as I had expected. Instead of the hundreds of daily potentials on apps like Tinder and Happn, I came across a paltry 20 people a day. Not exactly VIPs unfortunately, mostly pretty meaningless, empty types with impressive profile pictures, made in the coolest hotspots in the world. But I was finally on it and I had even paid for it so I decided to go for it for a week. Swipe!

Appointment with you

After about three days, I had a Paris match with Petit Prince Liam. He was an entrepreneur, had his own streetwear brand and a shop near Place Pigalle. In terms of looks, he was completely ‘in vogue’ and he actually started an involved conversation. I actually do not like having to speak English with my dates, but it went smoothly. He was charming and made me laugh. The following week we were in daily contact until he took the next step. “When shall I see you, mon chérie?” he asked Monday morning. That surprised me. ‘Did I even intend to meet him? And where? Paris is always a good idea, but without a car I was not so 1, 2, 3 there, and Thalys prices were even higher than the Eiffel Tower at the time. “I could drive to you this weekend. It’s only a 6 hour drive, right?” he continued before I could answer. An offer I could not say no to. My Saturday was still free and I could use a little break.

Far too little

That Saturday came, and Liam pulled into my street around noon. 14.00. He had a tight body and a gorgeous appearance. I gave him a hug and went inside. We went to the Rijksmuseum for an afternoon. For me a long time ago, for him as a tourist a must visit. As the ultimate hot couple – if I may say so myself – we strolled through the museum. I already thought I was a Parisienne and saw us strolling along the Seine, drinking cocktails at Le Marais and French kisses late at night under the flickering Eiffel Tower. But as smooth as we went there, our conversations were so stiff. Liam had an attitude and something to criticize about everything. Case Thomas from Emily in Paris. Just such a Parisian snob! Even the Night Watch disappointed my personal Guardien de Nuit. Ahh excusez-moi, the Mona Lisa is just an overrated stamp!

Lament without end

After Rijks, I booked at Izakaya, not the smallest eatery in town. But even there there was everything our Frenchman did not like. His wagyu was exaggerated, the staff too chabby and the music too loud. If it was his restaurant, this wayward Napoleon would have done it all differently. I poked some more into my grilled asparagus and counted the minutes. Really something for me to pick up with such a Parisian buffalo. Probably they are all like that on Raya. I could have spent this day so much better.

No space in my inn

After dinner we drove home to me. It was now about half past ten and I was done with the day. But not the man yet! He was determined to go inside. In fact, he had fully anticipated staying with me. Fresh outfit in his tote bag, everything. Do you want to go somewhere? Non merci bien, not a hair on my head. I understand that you are tired after such a long journey and such a whole afternoon in a disappointing 020, but that you drove here on spec from Paris, ce n’est pas mon problème is not it! Noblesse n’oblige pass. So after some arguing, he got into his BMW at eleven o’clock and sulked. Back to the city of love. But then. Do not call me. Do not call me; nothing more!

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