Our final train ride to Paris ended up being not as bad as the first half - in some respects. I mean, at least I wasn't standing next to that bathroom again. Like I said in my last post, our assigned seats were taken (at which point X wanted to throw a fit, ask these people if they knew who he was, and threaten them with his uncle who works somewhere in the government of Trinidad - I don't even know), but luckily some kind strangers offered to let us sit next to them, so I ended up sitting across from X. I almost immediately put my ear buds in, pulled my hood up, slouched over, and closed my eyes, thus entering Harleen's "Leave-Me-The-F-Alone" Mode. I think I need an even clearer sign that I don't want to be bothered though, because X wanted to keep talking, and as much as I pretended I was sleeping, he would keep talking. This train (like all the other trains I rode that weekend) was exceptionally quiet. Besides the occasional fussy baby, it was next to near pin drop silence. Why anyone would want to ruin that or have the rest of the train overhear your conversation is beyond me.
I pretended to fall asleep until I actually fell asleep, waking up occasionally to make sure I was still alive and that this train was still going somewhere. Every time I opened my eyes, he was just staring at me. Maybe his Apple iPad extended battery died or something, but I would wake up to find him watching me sleep, and finally, he decided to take out his Samsung Galaxy and Stilus Pen and draw a cartoon version of me, which was highly inaccurate and made me look like a South Park character.
So we got to Paris in the late afternoon on Friday and eventually found our hotel after some currency exchange issues and finding a cab (finally). Since he was fairly batshit crazy, I realized that the only way I was going to survive the weekend was if I too brought out my inner ridiculousness. So, with that being said, I decided from the moment I got off the train, that I had no idea we were going to Paris and that I thought I had been on the Hogwarts Express on my way to Hogsmede to be picked up by Hagrid. At first he was really confused since he's never read a Harry Potter book (WHO IS THIS GUY) which made it all the more fun, especially when I told him I didn't appreciate him kidnapping me and distracting me from my magical studies and that the Ministry of Magic aurors were going to come find him. I described my deceased buddy Mad-Eye Moody, but told him if I wanted him to, Mad-Eye would come back from the dead and obliterate his dumbass. He started giving me some weird looks, kind of like the ones I had been giving him all week. FINALLY, we were on the same page.
The hotel room was really nice, kind of small, but quaint enough. We only really used it for sleeping anyway - or I should say he used it for sleeping and I used it for fuming and ranting into my phone to whoever I thought might listen (thanks, Anne!!)
We started the night off getting all of our devices Wi-fi-ed up, because letting the world know (but not know) where he is in the world takes high priority of course. And it's not like our internet access lasted very long because it only lasted in the hotel. We went out to dinner at a really cool Italian place and I have to admit that I very much appreciated the way everything was so much cheaper in France. Dinner overall was good and we ended up walking back about five miles to get to the hotel. I didn't mind the walk - just the company.
His smart self decided to only pack a thin leather jacket for his trip to Europe, because he claims it's "very European/GQ" to wear layers as opposed to a thick overcoat. That's great and all, but I would rather have common sense and bundle up with my long coat, scarf, and gloves and be warm than freeze to death. Meanwhile, he froze, but maintained his "fashionable" appearance. Don't worry though guys, he had his Versace scarf at the ready if the temperatures dropped too much far below zero.
On our way back, we spotted the Eiffel Tower, and it was nearing the top of the hour so it was about to start sparkling and going crazy. As we walked more quickly towards this majestic sight, he turns over to me and says, "Wow, isn't this romantic? What are you going to do when it lights up?" At which point I nearly barfed up my dinner before casually responding "I think I'll take a picture of it. Maybe a video." I could see from the corner of my eye that he looked a little disappointed, but I mean, what did he expect? Ew, I don't even want to think about that. When we finally got to the tower, he asked if I would take a picture of him with it, and of course I did, capturing him in the picture with the entire tower in the background - pretty amazing shot if I do say so myself. When I asked him to take one of me, what did I get? My blown up face with maybe 1/100th of the tower in the background. We tried again a few times, and finally I just ended up setting up the shot for him, told him how to hold the camera and where to stand, and even then it was blurry. I have to say that he is hands down THE WORST photo-taker I have ever seen in my entire life. I can't even call him a photographer - that would be insulting to anyone who has ever picked up a camera.
We finally got back to the hotel, got ready for bed, and for some reason my feet were absolutely freezing. I kept rubbing them together under the blanket to make them warm, but it was taking forever. He noticed my feet were cold and tried to move his towards mine, but then realized that although the bed appeared to look like a queen size, it was actually two slightly-larger-than-twin size beds that were pushed together. And the BEST part was that these beds were separately made, so my covers were all tucked in on my own side of the bed and he couldn't get his feet anywhere near me - DENIED. Woohoo, haha the hotel gods were definitely looking out for me.
I think overall we probably walked about 20 miles throughout our trip in Paris. I can say that because X has a Nike Fuel Band that tells him exactly how much energy he expends per day, how many steps he walks, etc. He can then plug his little bracelet into the computer and get a statistical update/track record and see trends of his exercise patterns. He had been trying to get me to get one, but really? What the hell would I do with that. I have no desire to systematically exercise, and whenever I do exercise, the last thing I want to know is how many calories I lost or how far I traveled. More importantly, it's really ugly. And in the grand scheme of things, WHO CARES? I exercise because it's a cheaper stress-reliever than drinking, so if you see me all of a sudden start exercising a lot, it's either because I went broke and can’t afford booze, or I'm so stressed out and need to find an alternative to becoming an alcoholic.
So, Paris was super fun……………….and he continued to do things the entire time that would annoy the hell out of me. For example, on Saturday we went shopping practically all day. At the beginning of the day, I had one small bag with a set of coasters in it. He asked me if I wanted him to carry it. I told him it was fine and I got it. About 8 hours and 17 bags later, I'm still carrying all of my things while he has two small bags - one of which had shoes, while the other had white pants, which are "a staple for spring time". At one of the last stores we visited, the man at the counter even asked if he was going to be carrying things for "the lady" and he responded "I wanted to, but she's so stubborn and wouldn't let me."
Hold on there buddy boy, WHAT? Sorry I said I could carry my own bag at the beginning of the day when I was carrying ONE THING - had I known that he would carry that answer into the whole day, by all means I should have just let him take it. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I kept thinking to myself that there's no way this clown would survive a day with my family. If he pulled that shit in front of my dad or brother, you can guaran-damn-tee that he would not get anywhere near me for the rest of his life. I don't understand why it's such a difficult concept:
Woman + Man go shopping = (Woman + shopping) (Man + bags)
Woman goes shopping = (Woman + shopping bags)
Really. Not. That. Difficult.
Especially when the girl is this tiny 5 foot tall thing and he claims to be some 6 foot something bodybuilder who sees a personal trainer twice a week?? What the F. Granted, my arms could use a bit of a tone up, but a little help would have been nice. In any case, my arms got an amazing workout from that and were STILL sore three days later…
While shopping, he also kept complaining about how he wasn't seeing any "high end" shops that he wanted to go into…that was his complaint for the majority of the day, and then the moment we ARE in high end city, he says he doesn't have time to really try things on. Because you know, there are so many people in a completely empty store with salespeople who wait on you hand and foot. Of course you wouldn't have time for that. He was all about trying to get fancy shmancy stuff that they don't have in the states because "most of these stores don't send the entire collection to the states, so there are very rare pieces that you can only get in Europe".
Yeah. Okay. I would rather buy ten unique and different articles of clothing that you can't find in the states because the brands don't exist there, than spend the same amount of money on say, a pair of name-brand shoes. But that's clearly just me.
At some point during the day, we ended up at the Love Lock Bridge where couples come, write their name on a lock, hook it onto the bridge, throw the key into the river and supposedly their love is supposed to last forever. If I was with ANYONE else in the world, I might have thought it was cute, but given the circumstances, it just seemed like a load of crap and a money-making scheme, considering how many people were trying to sell us locks. When the first little peddler came up to ask if we wanted to buy a lock, before he could say anything, I immediately said no. Again, he looked a little taken aback from the corner of my eye, but there's no way I was writing my name next to his on anything - not even on the sand on a beach before high tide. No thank you.
I spent the entire week sending him signals that I was clearly not interested, and yet he would still try to put his arm around me (I would slip away and move my bag to the other shoulder). I kept up my Harry Potter routine for a while, but that just made him laugh and tell me how cute and funny I am (which is obviously true, but I wasn't trying to be!!) Ugh. I had to think of a new plan.
I pretended to fall asleep until I actually fell asleep, waking up occasionally to make sure I was still alive and that this train was still going somewhere. Every time I opened my eyes, he was just staring at me. Maybe his Apple iPad extended battery died or something, but I would wake up to find him watching me sleep, and finally, he decided to take out his Samsung Galaxy and Stilus Pen and draw a cartoon version of me, which was highly inaccurate and made me look like a South Park character.
So we got to Paris in the late afternoon on Friday and eventually found our hotel after some currency exchange issues and finding a cab (finally). Since he was fairly batshit crazy, I realized that the only way I was going to survive the weekend was if I too brought out my inner ridiculousness. So, with that being said, I decided from the moment I got off the train, that I had no idea we were going to Paris and that I thought I had been on the Hogwarts Express on my way to Hogsmede to be picked up by Hagrid. At first he was really confused since he's never read a Harry Potter book (WHO IS THIS GUY) which made it all the more fun, especially when I told him I didn't appreciate him kidnapping me and distracting me from my magical studies and that the Ministry of Magic aurors were going to come find him. I described my deceased buddy Mad-Eye Moody, but told him if I wanted him to, Mad-Eye would come back from the dead and obliterate his dumbass. He started giving me some weird looks, kind of like the ones I had been giving him all week. FINALLY, we were on the same page.
The hotel room was really nice, kind of small, but quaint enough. We only really used it for sleeping anyway - or I should say he used it for sleeping and I used it for fuming and ranting into my phone to whoever I thought might listen (thanks, Anne!!)
We started the night off getting all of our devices Wi-fi-ed up, because letting the world know (but not know) where he is in the world takes high priority of course. And it's not like our internet access lasted very long because it only lasted in the hotel. We went out to dinner at a really cool Italian place and I have to admit that I very much appreciated the way everything was so much cheaper in France. Dinner overall was good and we ended up walking back about five miles to get to the hotel. I didn't mind the walk - just the company.
His smart self decided to only pack a thin leather jacket for his trip to Europe, because he claims it's "very European/GQ" to wear layers as opposed to a thick overcoat. That's great and all, but I would rather have common sense and bundle up with my long coat, scarf, and gloves and be warm than freeze to death. Meanwhile, he froze, but maintained his "fashionable" appearance. Don't worry though guys, he had his Versace scarf at the ready if the temperatures dropped too much far below zero.
On our way back, we spotted the Eiffel Tower, and it was nearing the top of the hour so it was about to start sparkling and going crazy. As we walked more quickly towards this majestic sight, he turns over to me and says, "Wow, isn't this romantic? What are you going to do when it lights up?" At which point I nearly barfed up my dinner before casually responding "I think I'll take a picture of it. Maybe a video." I could see from the corner of my eye that he looked a little disappointed, but I mean, what did he expect? Ew, I don't even want to think about that. When we finally got to the tower, he asked if I would take a picture of him with it, and of course I did, capturing him in the picture with the entire tower in the background - pretty amazing shot if I do say so myself. When I asked him to take one of me, what did I get? My blown up face with maybe 1/100th of the tower in the background. We tried again a few times, and finally I just ended up setting up the shot for him, told him how to hold the camera and where to stand, and even then it was blurry. I have to say that he is hands down THE WORST photo-taker I have ever seen in my entire life. I can't even call him a photographer - that would be insulting to anyone who has ever picked up a camera.
We finally got back to the hotel, got ready for bed, and for some reason my feet were absolutely freezing. I kept rubbing them together under the blanket to make them warm, but it was taking forever. He noticed my feet were cold and tried to move his towards mine, but then realized that although the bed appeared to look like a queen size, it was actually two slightly-larger-than-twin size beds that were pushed together. And the BEST part was that these beds were separately made, so my covers were all tucked in on my own side of the bed and he couldn't get his feet anywhere near me - DENIED. Woohoo, haha the hotel gods were definitely looking out for me.
I think overall we probably walked about 20 miles throughout our trip in Paris. I can say that because X has a Nike Fuel Band that tells him exactly how much energy he expends per day, how many steps he walks, etc. He can then plug his little bracelet into the computer and get a statistical update/track record and see trends of his exercise patterns. He had been trying to get me to get one, but really? What the hell would I do with that. I have no desire to systematically exercise, and whenever I do exercise, the last thing I want to know is how many calories I lost or how far I traveled. More importantly, it's really ugly. And in the grand scheme of things, WHO CARES? I exercise because it's a cheaper stress-reliever than drinking, so if you see me all of a sudden start exercising a lot, it's either because I went broke and can’t afford booze, or I'm so stressed out and need to find an alternative to becoming an alcoholic.
So, Paris was super fun……………….and he continued to do things the entire time that would annoy the hell out of me. For example, on Saturday we went shopping practically all day. At the beginning of the day, I had one small bag with a set of coasters in it. He asked me if I wanted him to carry it. I told him it was fine and I got it. About 8 hours and 17 bags later, I'm still carrying all of my things while he has two small bags - one of which had shoes, while the other had white pants, which are "a staple for spring time". At one of the last stores we visited, the man at the counter even asked if he was going to be carrying things for "the lady" and he responded "I wanted to, but she's so stubborn and wouldn't let me."
Hold on there buddy boy, WHAT? Sorry I said I could carry my own bag at the beginning of the day when I was carrying ONE THING - had I known that he would carry that answer into the whole day, by all means I should have just let him take it. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I kept thinking to myself that there's no way this clown would survive a day with my family. If he pulled that shit in front of my dad or brother, you can guaran-damn-tee that he would not get anywhere near me for the rest of his life. I don't understand why it's such a difficult concept:
Woman + Man go shopping = (Woman + shopping) (Man + bags)
Woman goes shopping = (Woman + shopping bags)
Really. Not. That. Difficult.
Especially when the girl is this tiny 5 foot tall thing and he claims to be some 6 foot something bodybuilder who sees a personal trainer twice a week?? What the F. Granted, my arms could use a bit of a tone up, but a little help would have been nice. In any case, my arms got an amazing workout from that and were STILL sore three days later…
While shopping, he also kept complaining about how he wasn't seeing any "high end" shops that he wanted to go into…that was his complaint for the majority of the day, and then the moment we ARE in high end city, he says he doesn't have time to really try things on. Because you know, there are so many people in a completely empty store with salespeople who wait on you hand and foot. Of course you wouldn't have time for that. He was all about trying to get fancy shmancy stuff that they don't have in the states because "most of these stores don't send the entire collection to the states, so there are very rare pieces that you can only get in Europe".
Yeah. Okay. I would rather buy ten unique and different articles of clothing that you can't find in the states because the brands don't exist there, than spend the same amount of money on say, a pair of name-brand shoes. But that's clearly just me.
At some point during the day, we ended up at the Love Lock Bridge where couples come, write their name on a lock, hook it onto the bridge, throw the key into the river and supposedly their love is supposed to last forever. If I was with ANYONE else in the world, I might have thought it was cute, but given the circumstances, it just seemed like a load of crap and a money-making scheme, considering how many people were trying to sell us locks. When the first little peddler came up to ask if we wanted to buy a lock, before he could say anything, I immediately said no. Again, he looked a little taken aback from the corner of my eye, but there's no way I was writing my name next to his on anything - not even on the sand on a beach before high tide. No thank you.
I spent the entire week sending him signals that I was clearly not interested, and yet he would still try to put his arm around me (I would slip away and move my bag to the other shoulder). I kept up my Harry Potter routine for a while, but that just made him laugh and tell me how cute and funny I am (which is obviously true, but I wasn't trying to be!!) Ugh. I had to think of a new plan.
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