My own "Mr. Big"

Anyone that ever watched Sex and the City knows who Mr. Big is...

And in my life, I have my own personal Mr. Big. He is that one man that is so unbelievably attractiv and so unattainable... And of course, I am magically attracted to him.

How did I meet him? Me and the girls decided to go out clubbing in Paris. We went to this new and chic club. Sitting at our VIP-Table sipping on Grey-Goose Vodka, we felt like superstars... and then we saw this table. Spotlights, top models, handsome men and champagne... they were the VVIPs we realised. And there was this one man I couldn't help but stare at. There was something about him that couldn't be defined. Wherever he was, all eyes were automatically on him. It was amazing... And suddenly he looked in my direction, smiled and made me understand that I should join him. My heart stoppped for a second and the whole world stopped moving. There was no noise, no movement, not anything. It was like in a movie. 

We spent the end of the evening talking and it all ended in a picture perfect good-night kiss. And there I was... in aw for a man.

We were supposed to go on a dinner date but we never got past his appartement... there was this magical attraction between us, real intense desire... There was no awkwardeness of a first time, or embarassement when you realise you just got taken away by the moment. We spent hours talking in bed and fell asleep next to each other. I felt comfortable the next morning, even though my hair was a mess and I probably didn't look my best in his way to big sweater...

But like every perfect man, he has his flaws. It happens that he just disappears for a few days, and when he reemerges to the surface it's to tell me that he had to jet to New York or Istanbul or some other cosmopolitan city for a business trip and was way to busy to call...

His busy schedule keeps us from being able to have long evenings together and we try to squeeze in a few hours once a week where we can at least see each other. 

We both have lives on our own and they only intertwine for very few instants. I date aside from him, he has girlfriends aside from me... but somehow there is this "thing" between us that can't be defined. It's the exact reason why, even though sometimes we don't hear from each other for a month, we always end up getting in touch again and when we see each other it's like we were never separated. 

And maybe he is really my own personal "Mr. Big" and in the end I will be able to change him and make him mine forever.

The Art of Moving

It really doesn't seem like I learn anything... Every time I move I tell myself, next time I will bring less stuff, because I really can't travel like this. And every time I start packing I realize, I really have too much things... And of course, I start packing my bags two days before my departure.

Same thing this time... Here I am in my tiny appartment in Paris, surrounded by sooooo many things that just won't fit into my suitcase anymore. So I buy a second suitcase, telling myself that everyone can carry two bags, especially since I can easily just pull them behind me... 

Unfortunately, my second bag was full when I looked around and realised I still have about a gazillion things to pack. That's when the many shopping bags I collected over the months come in handy... After two days of packing and packing everything is finally either in a suitcase or a bag and I am happy...

That doesn't last very long, because I realize I live on the second floor and there are no elevators... Half an hour later all my stuff is in the taxi and I am on my way to the train station... And when I arrive in the train station, lucky me, no more trolleys. So there I am running around looking for one while the taxi-meter just keeps on going. 

I have to admit, the moment I sat down in the train was probably the best feeling I had the whole day. The other train guests must have been furious when there was absolutely no more space for their suitcases... but hey, I promise: Next time I move, I will travel lighter...

Really!!!!

Leaving

Leaving is never easy and the people that tell you it becomes easier with time are lying.

I move to another city every six months in average. Which means every six months I start over again. 

At first I only thought about the positive things change brings. You get to have a fresh start. You meet people that don't know anything about you. You meet new people that have no judgement about you and don't know about the mistakes you have made in the past. It's exciting. A new city, new faces... every day is special.

But when you have moved away a few times and lost contact with people you care for because they changed their cellphone number or the email address you have from them doesn't longer exists it starts making you sad. The guy you went on a few dates with and with whom you felt like you could fall in love with is no miles away and of course you had to meet him just a few days before you left. All you have is a phone number... and if he loses that phone you are left with nothing but a fading memory.

Munich, Montreux, Geneva, Manila, Paris... in the last two years I have spent a few months here and there. I have met strangers, made them my friends and some of them even became as important as family. 

But then you leave... and it is never easy. Can goodbyes ever be easy? I don't know... all I know is that I have left Paris and the city of love has kept a part of me...

Goodbyes are hard, they hurt and they are sad... so I am done with the goodbyes. I am just going to stick around with the "I see you soon"'s.