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About Paris

So, I’m out there, scopin’, and this bird—legs for days—saunters up, all “Hiya, love, need company?” I’m thinkin’, “Bloody hell, she’s bold!”—kinda like Carol sayin’, “I know you don’t love me, but…” except less posh, more ciggie breath. Made me happy, though—straight-up hustle, no faff. But then—fuckin’ hell—some geezer rocks up, all “Oi, that’s my girl!” and I’m like, “Mate, calm your tits, I ain’t stealin’!” Nearly shat meself—angry pimps? No thanks.

Une activité de plus en plus itinérante

Is it hard to get French women to go on dates in France? On the basis of 20 years living in France i.

Finally, the bus arrives. I hop on, and it’s packed. I squeeze in next to this lady who’s blasting music on her phone. I’m trying to focus on my book, but the music is so loud! I’m like, “Can we not?” But whatever, I just roll with it.

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