Up to Day 116
For reasons which will become obvious, I am writing this on day 117.
The romance between Goth Girl and I began on 14 March 2006. I had not long announced my separation from my wife, although we had been to all intents and purposes living separate lives for almost a year by then.
Goth Girl and I met at a wine tasting. We had known each other to email for some time before that as we have a lot of mutual friends, but had never met until that evening.
The meeting itself was pure fate. I had arranged to go to the wine tasting with another friend. With two hours to go she cancelled. On a whim I emailed Goth Girl and after a little persuasion persuaded her that free wine was more important than the things she was worried about (not being smartly enough dressed or well enough made up, both of which turned out to be untrue anyway). To say that we hit it off straight away is an understatement; I didn't go home that night and we moved in together 6 weeks later.
This weekend we took ourselves off to Paris to visit some old friends of Goth Girl's. For reasons which I do not entirely understand, they were throwing a margherita party on Saturday evening. Even more incomprehensibly, they wanted us there.
Being a little unlucky, we staggered into Gare du Nord about 25 minutes late. Not many people get their Eurostar delayed on the French side of La Manche. We were taken to a wonderful restaurant where I ate the best snails I have ever tasted, before winding up at an apartment full of burritos.
Saturday was, of course, day 116. We woke up late and headed off into Paris, leaving our hosts to prepare for the party that evening. I should mention at this point that I had never been to Paris before (unless you count a mad dash around the Peripherique one Sunday morning) and have a very limited understanding of the language. Goth Girl, on the other hand, was a student there for a year in the 1980s and speaks French like a native. The upside to all of this was that we were able to wander around her old haunts rather than spend our time in tourist traps. We did begin by walking through the Jardin du Luxembourg and at my request made a trip through Bastille, but by and large we just wandered, exploring the city beneath our feet.
Of course, Goth Girl had no idea why I was so keen to get to Sacre Coeur. I think she thought that I had an obsession with looking out over the city. That it was a warm sunny day was a mixed blessing, as the famous steps were crowded with sightseers. I managed to persuade Goth Girl to move off them on the pretext of wanting to see the Eiffel Tower and we walked up the steps. I was disappointed to find that we could not, as I had hoped, walk around the chapel but instead had to take a road down to the side to get away from the crowds. Fortunately, as we did so, we came across a small garden, lined with trees and benches. As we had a cool bottle of beer waiting to be drunk it was no trouble to persuade Goth Girl to slip in there.
And that was where, after a cursory glance at the Tower, I asked her to marry me. Fortunately, she said yes, otherwise I had been carrying a drawing of a ring in my pocket for no good reason.
We returned home to our hosts, who were not only thrilled by our news but who then proceeded to tell everyone at their party what had happened. Fearful of hijacking the entire thing we snuck away at about 1am and fell asleep on a sofa, two very happy people indeed.
The romance between Goth Girl and I began on 14 March 2006. I had not long announced my separation from my wife, although we had been to all intents and purposes living separate lives for almost a year by then.
Goth Girl and I met at a wine tasting. We had known each other to email for some time before that as we have a lot of mutual friends, but had never met until that evening.
The meeting itself was pure fate. I had arranged to go to the wine tasting with another friend. With two hours to go she cancelled. On a whim I emailed Goth Girl and after a little persuasion persuaded her that free wine was more important than the things she was worried about (not being smartly enough dressed or well enough made up, both of which turned out to be untrue anyway). To say that we hit it off straight away is an understatement; I didn't go home that night and we moved in together 6 weeks later.
This weekend we took ourselves off to Paris to visit some old friends of Goth Girl's. For reasons which I do not entirely understand, they were throwing a margherita party on Saturday evening. Even more incomprehensibly, they wanted us there.
Being a little unlucky, we staggered into Gare du Nord about 25 minutes late. Not many people get their Eurostar delayed on the French side of La Manche. We were taken to a wonderful restaurant where I ate the best snails I have ever tasted, before winding up at an apartment full of burritos.
Saturday was, of course, day 116. We woke up late and headed off into Paris, leaving our hosts to prepare for the party that evening. I should mention at this point that I had never been to Paris before (unless you count a mad dash around the Peripherique one Sunday morning) and have a very limited understanding of the language. Goth Girl, on the other hand, was a student there for a year in the 1980s and speaks French like a native. The upside to all of this was that we were able to wander around her old haunts rather than spend our time in tourist traps. We did begin by walking through the Jardin du Luxembourg and at my request made a trip through Bastille, but by and large we just wandered, exploring the city beneath our feet.
Of course, Goth Girl had no idea why I was so keen to get to Sacre Coeur. I think she thought that I had an obsession with looking out over the city. That it was a warm sunny day was a mixed blessing, as the famous steps were crowded with sightseers. I managed to persuade Goth Girl to move off them on the pretext of wanting to see the Eiffel Tower and we walked up the steps. I was disappointed to find that we could not, as I had hoped, walk around the chapel but instead had to take a road down to the side to get away from the crowds. Fortunately, as we did so, we came across a small garden, lined with trees and benches. As we had a cool bottle of beer waiting to be drunk it was no trouble to persuade Goth Girl to slip in there.
And that was where, after a cursory glance at the Tower, I asked her to marry me. Fortunately, she said yes, otherwise I had been carrying a drawing of a ring in my pocket for no good reason.
We returned home to our hosts, who were not only thrilled by our news but who then proceeded to tell everyone at their party what had happened. Fearful of hijacking the entire thing we snuck away at about 1am and fell asleep on a sofa, two very happy people indeed.
posted by The Skiver at 11:16 pm
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