Decided to stay an extra day in the Hotel due to bad weather. You’d think we’d be all over each other but he seemed slightly cold – I found out this was due to the “past” Was just so lovely to be off work and enjoying doing nothing in this lovely Hotel.
Went out in the evening and had the most fun evening with Mr French. We chatted, we laughed, talked and he was the perfect gentleman. Perhaps it wasn’t just about the naughty stuff, we could get to know each other – but some naughty stuff was always good.
The next day we travelled to his flat near Cannes. It was built away from the sea in the smallest most remote little village. Very picturesque but I could tell why he talked so much – he was starved of any human interaction and had to let it all out.
We stopped off along near our favourite village Eze and out came his prized possession… a picnic basket with a special Bordeaux and cut glass glasses. The obligatory French cheeses, bread and charcuterie (meats) came alongside. It was very romantic. The most romantic picnic I’ve ever had hailed from Subway and consisted of
the weekly special.
We spoke and spoke – well he spoke at me for most of it but I loved to hear him talk. We were just so similar or so I thought but then he dropped the line – I just don’t feel ready for anything. I hadn’t even hinted at anything as until this point we were still friends – ok a bit of hanky panky but friends. It was just quite strange and he told me the main reason he’d left the UK was to escape his ex and start afresh. His job was also on the blink… I could understand this. Prior to this I was thinking to myself… I could probably do this lifestyle even for a bit or to be with him…getting carried away again… but he seemed so nice indeed.
Oh well. One of those things and obviously we weren’t meant to be.
The rest of the holiday consisted of another 3 days together. At times it felt like it was dragging. Towards the end when we continued to enjoy the local sights we went out clubbing on the final night and had quite a wild time. it was probably just the fact that I’d be leaving and not seeing him for a while. We’d got on so well – just clicked I thought.
Saw another side to the South of France too which wasn’t just the glitzy Monte Carlo or St Tropez. It was unspoilt, pretty: time seemed to go very slow and I was really enjoying my time out there.
We got very drunk on the final night – it was the local nightclub on the beach and what a lovely evening. Stars twinkling and vodka was flowing. He was supposed to drive me the next day to the airport as he had done from Nice but somehow was still drunk the next day so I ended up getting not even an airport transfer but a taxi –
1 hour away. What a way to end. 150 euros!
Felt quite sad to leave and we were still messaging from the airport and back in the UK.
Read Chapter 12 next Friday to find out what happens next and we meet another new fancy… he comes from yet another continent – how will this one fare? Also back on the scene is Mr Toyboy and Mr Stockings…
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