By now, you are no doubt well aware of my weakness for foreign men. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that Pigalle, who is French, educated, and a journalist covering foreign affairs swept me off my feet when I met him (in person!) in the city.
It felt amazing having this powerful, worldly, and (I thought at the time) “mature” man by my side. And, even though he was ridiculously well-traveled and sophisticated, he still came across as sweet and innocent.
When I asked him when his last relationship had ended, he replied that it had been a whole year ago, that he had no children because he traveled so much, and that it was difficult to find a woman who would be in it for the long haul. Score for Mary, I thought. I began conjuring up pictures in my head of us skiing the French Alps and drinking hot toddies by the fireplace.
We saw each other a handful of times, always at the most exclusive restaurants and bars thanks to his glamorous job. I was so smitten and so convinced he was a nice guy that I even broke the Lip Slut rule (please refer back to my first Odyssey article to learn about Lip Slut) spent the night (yes, in the biblical sense) in his hotel room. Hey, who doesn’t love hotel sex?
After what would turn out to be our final visit, I sent him the following gushy email, which began the exchange that would put an end to everything. Pay special attention to the climax—it’s a shocker!
ME: If the Mayan calendar is correct and the world should end tomorrow, I just want to let you know that I had such a great time with you the other night and I'm happy we met! =o)
PS – What is your address?
PIG: I can't tell you how this evening was so great for me! I miss your kiss so much now. Just arrived tonight to my parents place for a couple of days for X-mas. I will probably go to beach tomorrow to enjoy walk.
Why my address? Do you want to send me your book? :) No way, I expect to come soon in NY and get a dedicated one :)
Je t'embrasse
In case you’re wondering, this was a more recent encounter. But I’m learning, I swear…
PIG: I wish you a magnificent birthday, my dear! I miss you already. Just back from X-mas at my parents’ place. Yeah, it is just a couple of miles from the beach and it is always great to come back to walk on the sand. Now I am preparing to go skiing with friends for two days.
ME: Thanks! Merry Christmas to you and your family from Valentino and yours truly. I was simply asking for your address so I could send you a holiday card, but it’s no big deal because by the time it would get there it would be January already. So, your parents live by a beach? Nice! I hope you’re enjoying some time off.
Xo
I sent a second email after not hearing back from him for a couple of weeks. Unusual, I thought, considering we had been emailing each other about five times a day since we met.
ME: How are you? You must be real busy! Just wanted to say hello and I hope you had a fantastic New Year’s. So much has changed in the past few weeks but I won’t bore you with everything. When are you back in NYC?
ME: You vanished on me! Is everything okay? I’m sure you are busy, but if you have started dating someone or met a girlfriend and no longer wish to talk, then it’s okay. Just let me know and I wish you all the best. But I really did enjoy hanging out with you and emailing.
Eventually, I did get a response. But not from Pigalle…
“Dear Mary,
You are probably not aware of the fact that I am [Pigalle’s] wife and that we also have two children together, aged three and five. The ‘friends’ he went skiing with during Christmas Holidays was actually me, his wife.
Please accept his apologies for not telling you the truth and for not answering you lately, as he also has a busy family life. I am glad to hear that you enjoy hanging out with him and dating him. I just hope it won’t happen again.
Thanks again for your comprehension.”
Honestly, you can’t beat the French when it comes to mastering the art of the sophisticated understatement.
(my face afterreading that email)
Oh, in case you’re still wondering where Pigalle’s nickname came from, Pigalle was a raunchy neighborhood in Paris during WWII. Plus, Pigalle sounds a lot like pig, which is what dear Pigalle turned out to be.
So…what have the married men taught me?
One thing and one thing only: STAY AWAY!
