Ignore Call

The last time I was in Paris I was by myself. It had only been a few months previously and was back when I was still trying to fix a broken heart. I had stopped there for all of 24 hours on my way to Geneva because if you're going to stop anywhere on your way to Geneva it might as well be Paris. The most I'd achieved sight-seeing wise on that occasion was staring up at the Eiffel Tower at two in the morning on a bench and smoking my weight in roll-ups trying to figure out where things had gone wrong that I was sat, alone, in front of the Eiffel Tower at 2am on a Thursday (and simultaneously thinking that it was fucking cool to be sat smoking alone in front of the Eiffel Tower at 2am on a Thursday).

This excursion to the city of lights was very different.

For one thing my heart had been healed, or was scabbing over and starting to heal at the very least, for another I was actually paying for a bed in which to lay my head (instead of wondering aimlessly from bar to cafe to benches in order to kill time before making my way back on the metro to catch my Geneva flight) and for a third I was with my brother. The only person I could imagine spending every day with for three months and not end up hating him (I could be facetious and say this was because we already hated each other when the fact was we actually just get on exceptionally well for a brother and sister, but even though we can and do annoy the hell out of each other at times we have the option of shouting and screaming at one another and have it not destroy our relationship as he is my brother and I am his sister. It's expected. Which made things a lot easier than going away with a friend where you actually have to be polite and not sing advert jingles over and over again just to get a reaction out of the person - for example. Having to have the self control to not sing advert jingles over and over again, or do stupid voices, or make squeeing noises when seeing a dog for three whole months - basically just not be annoying/myself -is not within my skill set, thus the sibling trip was undertaken).

Our hostel was next to a canal and, as the evening was warm and light, we decided to sit by the water's edge and enjoy a dinner of fresh baguette, supermarche stinky cheese, and the cheapest red wine we could get our hands on. Over this impressively delicious dinner we talked and, as these things do, conversation turned to Hitler being a vegetarian. For whatever reason, my brother seemed to believe I was insinuating Hitler was better than him for choosing not to eat animals.

No I'm not, you haven't killed six million Jews last time I checked! ...Yet. Were my last words as he angrily stalked off. Taking the last of the wine with him as he went.

Now I was alone, wineless and brotherless, I choose the only option available to me and started my smoking tour of Europe with aplomb after procurring a packet of tobacco and some rolling papers which could always be relied upon to keep me amused. I sat back down in a different spot by the canal (if you ever find yourself shouting about Hitler in public I've found it's normally best to move on pretty quick) and set to the arduous, yet perplexingly satisfying, work of rolling cigarettes and then smoking them. The general law of averages means that no single female can rest in one spot for very long without being approached by a continental man tying to make his luck. This is not the case in England where I'm either too fat or too scary or too weird for the opposite sex to approach me. None of these factors seem to be an issue for men of Middle Eastern or African extraction that live in European cities so it was not long before a charming guy going by the name of Mohammad approached me and asked for a light. We conversed as well as we could with my pigeon French and his slightly better conversational English. He laughed when I said "d'accord" which is the one French word I know that seems to consistently delight French speakers whenever I use it. I try and use it sparingly but the reaction it gets makes me hungry for further approval so once it's out of the bag I end up peppering it through the entire conversation and it loses it's impact pretty fast.

Am sure there's a lesson to be learned in there somewhere.

Mohammad asked for my phone number and, for whatever odd reason, I gave it to him. There are too many situations I find myself in when I do a thing and do not not know why I have chosen to do this thing. This was one of those situations. Why give my phone number to a man who has approached me purely based on the fact I'm a single woman and who has asked for my phone number after an odd and awkward conversation that took place using broken English and even brokener French? It's not as if a deep spiritual bond had been uncovered. It's the fact that I'm a single woman, and further that I'm a single woman who has deigned to converse with him that has encouraged this enquiry of Mohammad's. I'm not entirely convinced he wants my phone number so we can continue having odd and awkward conversations where either one of us can only hope to be understood, at best, 65 per cent of the time. I suspect Mohammad might be after something a bit different to that.

But give him my phone number I did. My actual phone number. The phone number that meant he could call me on the phone (where one assumes our understanding rate would drop significantly into the low 20's percentile given that most of our meaning was conveyed through hand gestures and facial expressions).

I guess I was trying a new 'why not' mentality. I say 'new'. 'Why not...' had ruled most of my existence up till that point:

"why not go to the most romantic city on earth alone when you've been romantically rejected?"

"why not take these drugs a stranger has offered you that he says is speed but could literally be anything?"

"why not fall in love with emotionally unavailable men who continually let you down and are only interested in you when you're not interested in them?"

The answer to all these questions is of course, "because it's fucking stupid". But I wasn't interested in the answers so much as I was the the two little enticing words of "why not?" They had cajoled me into a lot of dumb shit (along with their good friends "what's the worst that can happen?") but this phase of the "why nots" seemed different somehow. I was older, smarter, more worldly. I had a handle on this now.

Except; no, no, and hell no because I gave Mohammad my number. None of these older, smarter, wiser traits are attached to giving a strange French boy your phone number just because he asks.

There was an upside to the number giving dumbassery which was that Mohammad now felt free to wander away with his two other friends (who seemed perplexed by the little tête-à-tête rendezvous he'd just indulged in - if there's one thing I understand it's the international sign language for "dude, the fuck are you doing?"). This relieved me of feeling awkward and odd in conversation with another human being (my default setting whatever language it takes place in) and free to sit alone once more, (though slightly fearful of being approached by another strange man) and to ask myself the same question Mohammad's friends had asked him; "dude, the fuck are you doing?"

Right on cue my brother came up and said that was silly then.

Maybe a bit, I replied.

Shall we not argue over Hitler being a vegetarian again? he asked hopefully.

As long as you never leave me alone by a canal again I said. Boys whose language I do not speak try and pick me me up and it's unbearably uncomfortable. (I was unable to divulge my own part in encouraging such things as I was horrifically embarrassed by it all).

He laughed and we walked back to the hostel to spend another night with overbearing Americans rolling into our dorm at 4am pissed out of their heads.

Just then, I looked at my phone as it alerted me to the fact that an unknown foreign number was attempting to make contact with me.

"WHY NOT" screamed my internal monologue as a deeper, more sensible, part of me pressed 'ignore call'.

Maybe I did have a handle on this now. Though how long that would last was anyone's guess.