Foreign Men

Sometimes I wonder how I made it out of Europe at all. But perhaps their ultimate powers of attraction over me arise from ‘minority number’ moments.

This weekend made me realise it again, that man, do I have it bad for foreign males. Particularly those from the West European/ Mediterranean area.

And not even that, but I am accepting that I have some sort of buried-in homing signal, which enables me to bump into and begin conversing with any such foreign man anywhere anytime anyhow. It does not matter that there are hundreds of South Africans in that pub or convention centre, but within seconds I will have found-without-trying the few foreigners milling amongst us. ESPECIALLY if they are French.

Saturday night, I enter that darling neighbourhood pub of the Jolly. And within the first 5 minutes, during the split second of me catching the barman’s attention for my first (virgin) drink & my mates moving from the bar to an open table, I manage to find and get thoroughly engrossed in a conversation with a Frenchie. Not MY Frenchie. But ooooo baby, a frenchie nonetheless. With THAT accent and Gaelic way. Swoon Swoon Swoon .

Later I would have one cute drunken Dane explaining random pub stories to me at every pass-by he made. With occasional hand-along-my-back-or-even-my-stomach touching! Swoon Swoon chuckle-at-the-drunkenness Swoon.

[I also received the most darling compliment from Frenchie’s friend – that he hopes I don’t mind, especially as it means that he has been looking, but I have the most lovely stomach he has seen. It is so…sensual. Huh? I have just moved it from “boep” to “pot” stage. But aaah thank you, nonetheless. I gotta wear midriff revealing tops more often apparently!]

And the reason I was even in that pub…. To meet up with my Irish mate. Who was there having a drink with his German mate.

And then yesterday, before I even tracked down the coffee stand, let alone the off-limits Moët corner at “Rooms on View”, I had found one but-cute Italian man who was so lovely I apparently went as red as my outfit. So cute and sweet and well-accented, that had my wallet held R500 in notes I more than likely would have handed them over for the purchases of 6 very random blue coffee mugs & saucers.

Put even the slightest twang in a man’s accent. Let him speak from the other side of a packed room with just mildly pursed lips and slack worded “the”s that become “zee”s, and somehow my otherwise-useless hearing picks it up, and my body is just drawn to that place, and that person.

Sadly. Very Sadly. Nothing came out of any of my foreign encounters this weekend. In actual fact, I am about to lose one of my foreign Jo’burg contingent. He is off to fairer shores in a month. I am not happy with this. But no amount of arm-punching, foot stomping, or bribery through Guinness purchases seem to be coercing him into steering clear of that Cape-bound N1.

Otherwise – Weekend Three of Sobriety has passed easily enough. For some odd enough reason, my first serious grieving for a glass of champagne, or wine, or GnT, forgodsake just hand over that bottle of tequila already enough with this…. moment of really wanting a drink during the Teetotalling Month occurred on early Saturday evening, when back in Melville. The past two weekends more north - Randburg, Colony, Fourways - the very places one would think I would need to be drunk to survive do not seem to bother sober me at all. Hmmmm. I am still trying to decide what this means about Melville, its nightlife and me when I hit that suburb.

I do think some of my mates almost are craving me getting back on the booze. Not because I am different in personality or temperament. Apparently I am as much fun as when drunk – which is a great relief to know. But because now my energy does not run dry. Now I can sit in that pub for hours longer, while all those around me are slumping over in drunken stupors. And I want to keep talking and do not see the problem, while they beg to go home and pass out.

Lightweights.

Hmmmm. I wonder how the French men currently aboard CDG:JNB flights feel about a sober over-energised chick with a gorgeous sensual stomach?!