The adult in me didn’t really see the need to meet Brian for dinner because I knew we had nothing in common, but the teenager in me wanted to just to show him how far I’ve come in life. I secretly wanted him to go home and tell all of the classmates who never made it out of our hometown about the très fabulous life I am leading here in Paris.
So in my new Chloé jeans, Zadig & Voltaire blouse, and of course my diamonds, I took him to the very trendy Costes restaurant thinking he’s be impressed by the ambiance and excellent French cuisine. All he did was:
· Complain that he couldn’t get a hamburger and curly fries (so embarassing!)
· Couldn’t understand why people didn’t speak more English (so so embarassing!)
· Thank god that Starbucks had made it over here because at least he could find American snack food to eat (so so so embarassing!)
Let’s put this “friend” into context. These embarrassing remarks were coming from a guy who named his baby Jackie Danielle – because he wanted his first kid to have the initials JD – as in Jack Daniels – as in the whisky. Yes, very cool indeed.
So as our little evening came to a very quick end and I asked him if he had any plans to visit the Louvre, he replied ever so loudly so the whole restaurant could here, “Nah, why would I want to go to the Louvre? Isn’t it just art & shit?”.