My Mr. Darcy

Monday, 3rd to last day of my trip 

I wanted this to be like "Love, Actually." Ya know, how Mr. Darcy falls in love with someone and they don't even speak the same language. Go to France, wear cute clothes, jump into a freezing lake to save someone's manuscript, let them see your cute little body, and bada bing bada boom, LOVE. 

Turns out, it's not that easy. 

I mean don't get me wrong, I've tried. Sitting in coffee shops, looking cute AF. Twirling my hair in my fingers, making eyes at any attractive man that walks in. A couple of times they even walked over to me. 

"Bonjour.. cest ce tu ve frnset, frug pa la mereude.." a bunch of gibberish. Well, I usually clock the bonjour, but that's it. They never linger long once they realize we don't speak the same language. 

Where's my Mr. Darcy?

Hell, I'd even settle for Jude Law. Holed up in my holiday cottage and hotty mchotterson knocks on my door. I mean, I suppose that would be admittedly a little scary. But Cameron Diaz doesn't seem to mind. Plus, they at least speak the same language. Ugh. My life is not a movie. Repeat, my life is not a movie. 

I only have 3 days left before I head home. This week has already been going by so fast. Sure, I've seen the Eifel Tower. Eaten some bomb food. But have I connected with anybody? Not really. Maybe it's me....

Oh well, off to Louvre.

Monday night, 3rd to last day of my trip

I am DEAD. Being a tourist is hard. I spend all day feeling a bit lost. Why did I come here again? Oh right, to fall in love. Bleh.

Tuesday Late Afternoon...

Well, that was interesting. I'm not sure...how do I? Ha! I am baffled. Befuddled. Bemused.. wait not sure what bemused means. Regardless, I am twisted up. Where to begin. Well, I suppose at the beginning. Imagine if we get married? HA what a thing to write. I just met him. Okay okay, the beginning. 

This morning I arose like any other morning. Rubbed the crusty sleepiness from my eyes and greeted the day. I dressed in nothing special. Pair of jeans and a black turtle neck. Slicked my hair into a ponytail and made my way to the coffee shop I've been frequenting. 

I knew this was my second to last day, so as I sat drinking my latte, I decided to spend the day relaxing. No touristing. No dolling myself up. Just eat and chill and read my favorite book, Charlotte's Web. I know, I know it's a kids book. Well, young adult maybe. But it's my favorite and I don't know why I feel the need to justify that to my journal. Alright, moving on. 

As I sat there reading and chilling, a man approached me. And when I say man, I mean MAN. Like a Vigo Mortenson type man. Like rugged but kind. Think Aragon from Lord of the Rings. But with no sword. And freshly showered. 

He was speaking French to me, but smiling and pointing out the window at something. I gave him the classic confused eyebrow raise, wide eyes. Sorry, I don't speak French. He turned his head to the side and regarded me, lovingly. Okay well maybe not lovingly. But he quietly stared. And then sat down opposite me. I didn't know what to do. I smiled. Blushed, probably. 

He spoke again more slowly, and gestured out the window. 

I looked out the window. I saw nothing out of the ordinary. I looked back at him. Saw something very out of the ordinary (a hot guy talking to me.) Sorry, I don't understand. I smiled apologetically. At least I think I did. I'm sure it was very charming. 

He then gestured to my book that lay open on the table. I picked it up to show him. Ah, he smirked. A look of recognition flashed his face. More gibberish. He laughed. He looked down, then looked back up at me, smiling. 

At this point, I wasn't entirely sure what to do. This was what I had been hoping for. A hot guy. My Mr. Darcy from Love, Actually. But how the hell do we understand each other? He seemed to like my book. He seemed to want to show me something outside. He seemed nice. But shit, he could murder me. 

He stood and held out his hand to me, smiling again. He spoke more French but mimed eating. I laughed. Do you want to go get food? He laughed. Pointed at himself, pointed at me, put an imaginary fork in his mouth. More gibberish. I gathered up my bags. 

Well.... we never made it to a meal. We made it to a park. We made it to a bench. and his mouth made its way to mine. Yeah, you heard right. I made out with a hot French guy in the middle of the afternoon. It was so hot. He is so hot. I am so hot. I still can't believe this happened. I'm meeting him again tonight! He's taking me to a very fancy restaurant. At least that's what I'm assuming based off the address he left me with. What am I going to wear? Maybe the red dress... or the blue? The blue I think. It's more sexy. Wow, I can't believe I'm going on a date with a guy, and I don't even know his name! Ok, ok I better go start getting ready. Ahh, I still can't believe how this trip has turned around. Am I gonna leave with a French boyfriend?!?! Is my life actually a movie? Ha!

Should I wear the blue? Is it too sexy? It might be. Need to leave a little mystery. I think I'll do the red. With a red lip. Ok, I'm so excited.

* * *

Detective Loussant sighed, shutting the journal. He looked down at the mangled corpse on the table. 

"Where did you find her?"

"Dumpster behind L'Initial."

The once blue dress, tattered and covered in blood.