As someone without a religious bone in her body, I do spend quite a bit of time at churches. Even home in NYC, if I’m passing by St. Patrick’s Cathedral and the tourists aren’t mucking it up, I’ll go inside for a few minutes. I just love the architecture, stain glass windows and the smell of the incense. So of course this meant I had to head toÂ SacrĂ©-CĹ“ur Basilica earlier this past week for not only the church itself, but the view from up there. It’s amazing how far you can see.
Then I decided to go to Barcelona for a few days. I had never been and I was aching for some warmer weather. Although it’s currently 70 degrees FahrenheitÂ here (Paris) and not a cloud in the sky, it had been a bit cold. Bizarrely (or not bizarrely) a round-trip ticket to Barcelona and back, as well as a few nights in a hotel that was just a notch above a hostel was about the same amount I’d probably spend on a weekend of proper debauchery in New York City. So I bought the package and went.
Barcelona was not as warm as I had hoped, but I did get to stare at the ocean, eat tapas, paella and drink many San Miguels. I got to see some GaudĂ in the flesh, roam the market and eat some chocolate that literally brought me to tears. There’s a whole boat load of crying tears of happiness these days. In fact, last night when my friend Meg and I went to La FidelitĂ© for dinner, there may have been a few tears of joy as I ate my dinner. Of course this emotional behavior was immediately put to bed when Meg assured me that she would smack me if I had a full blown breakdown over the food. So I pulled my shit together. You’d think I’d never had amazing food before in my life with all this nonsense. Or maybe I’m just that happy about everything?
The rest of this weekend will involve topless sunbathing on the terrace, catching up on work, and mulling over the suggestion of a threesome as proposed by the French fella I’ve been hanging around. He has made it his job for me to forget the things I need to forget and apparently a threesome with he and his friend will do just that.
As one who has never engaged in such a thing, although it is on my bucket list, it’s hard to decide which way I’ll swing in making this decision. Is it a slippery slope after such a step? Will I ever be happy with just one fella again? Will I have to change my name and start dressing differently? Surprisingly, this possible behavior has been condoned by my sister who, although having never had one herself, feels that it is my duty in some way to not pass up this opportunity. But I’ll worry about that tomorrow. Today is perfect lying still and staring at the sky.