I took this trip to have an adventure. I was tired of being married, responsible, safe, and mature. I wanted to come to Europe to party, meet fabulous people, and be spontaneous. No more practical, well-thought out decisions for me. No sir. It was going to be all about debauchery and unabashed hedonism.
Then I spent the evening with two 20 year olds, who were actually still young and sponteneous (without having to give themselves the "I'm going to be spontaneous now" speech.) They were best friends from the Czech Republic who had spent the past two days hitchiking to Paris because one of them was in love with a girl in Paris and planned to woo her. The other was also in love with a girl back home. As we sat by the Seine drinking this knock-you-on-your-ass brew from their hometown, I felt the conversation begin to shift. These guys were just boys, and I was a woman. We were not talking as peers, comparing our fears of never finding love; I had become their teacher. They were just beginning to experience the delightful nauseousness of new infatuation, and were ready to sell their souls for it. It was beautiful. Listening to them talk was like gazing at an unblemished field of daisies; you just wanted so badly for this to really be the way things are.
They saw in me a "been-there-and-back-ness," but not in a jaded way, just in a knowing way. They asked my advice about women, and I showed them their way on the Paris metro. Just three days ago, I was walking 8 blocks out of my way to get on my line because I was afraid I'd get lost if I had to switch trains. Now I was explaining the system and how to buy tickets like a local.
Later that day, I caught a glimpse of myself in a shop window, and you know what? I looked beautiful. I used to dread going back to college in the fall because I would get so overwhelmed by the throng of skinny, tan bitches who made my self-esteem plummet. But now, here in the beautiful-women captial of the world, I felt truly unique and beautiful. And most importantly, I felt grown up, and I liked it. I began to see how growing up doesn't always have to mean being boring and practical. It also means learning to know and trust yourself in a way that no one can take from you. Becoming unshakable in your selfhood.
When one of the Czech boys asked me why I was travelling this summer, I explained that I had recently left my marriage and was looking for some new experiences in the world. He smiled, and said in broken English, "So, you are . . . like bird then. You fly free." Yes. I am like bird.
Then I spent the evening with two 20 year olds, who were actually still young and sponteneous (without having to give themselves the "I'm going to be spontaneous now" speech.) They were best friends from the Czech Republic who had spent the past two days hitchiking to Paris because one of them was in love with a girl in Paris and planned to woo her. The other was also in love with a girl back home. As we sat by the Seine drinking this knock-you-on-your-ass brew from their hometown, I felt the conversation begin to shift. These guys were just boys, and I was a woman. We were not talking as peers, comparing our fears of never finding love; I had become their teacher. They were just beginning to experience the delightful nauseousness of new infatuation, and were ready to sell their souls for it. It was beautiful. Listening to them talk was like gazing at an unblemished field of daisies; you just wanted so badly for this to really be the way things are.
They saw in me a "been-there-and-back-ness," but not in a jaded way, just in a knowing way. They asked my advice about women, and I showed them their way on the Paris metro. Just three days ago, I was walking 8 blocks out of my way to get on my line because I was afraid I'd get lost if I had to switch trains. Now I was explaining the system and how to buy tickets like a local.
Later that day, I caught a glimpse of myself in a shop window, and you know what? I looked beautiful. I used to dread going back to college in the fall because I would get so overwhelmed by the throng of skinny, tan bitches who made my self-esteem plummet. But now, here in the beautiful-women captial of the world, I felt truly unique and beautiful. And most importantly, I felt grown up, and I liked it. I began to see how growing up doesn't always have to mean being boring and practical. It also means learning to know and trust yourself in a way that no one can take from you. Becoming unshakable in your selfhood.
When one of the Czech boys asked me why I was travelling this summer, I explained that I had recently left my marriage and was looking for some new experiences in the world. He smiled, and said in broken English, "So, you are . . . like bird then. You fly free." Yes. I am like bird.
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