A Porn Star For A Partner…

Stiff upper lip, that’s right, I don’t wish to be seeing anything stiff outside of the bedroom thank you very much. Ohh so British… I was beginning to think if I would never fit in around here with my mindset from the 1920’s. Queen Victoria wouldn’t have allowed any getting out of the thighs, even in summer time! So yes, I’m in trousers and a scarf during the summer, I’m convinced the Eau De Parfum pollutes the surrounding air more because of it.

Whilst trawling the internet, I received a message by what could only be described as god. You know those ones that you see in paintings in decedent art galleries when you’re on holiday, pretending to look interested whilst the person you’re with tells you the one hundred and one facts about each and every piece that you’re not in the slightest bit interested in. “Oh that’s interesting! mmmm hmmm, yeah I’ve heard of that before!” … “Oh really what did you think of his other works?” … “Erm …… loved them especially the…….. the erm…… Tell you what, I’m dying for a coffee, is there a Starbucks close by?” Oh we all do it, don’t we?

Anyway, so god presented himself in my inbox and I thought, ‘well, why not, this could be my experiment to see if somebody that hot would be interested in dating somebody like me, only to be closely described as looking like Big Bird off Sesame St.

Coffee was arranged and I headed into the Marais for 2:30PM. The café I chose was a bit rustic and trendy so I thought I would win some brownie points there. “I don’t like the decoration in here, I hate green!” Oh ok, maybe not then…

As god got down from his chariot (his two seater scooter) he walked up to me and cracked a smile, obviously he was imagining big bird. We went in and got sat next to the bin, this was not the chic idea that I had planned but oh well, I didn’t mind inhaling people’s compost of unwanted food, not when I was sitting across from that! And anyway I’d put so much perfume on that I’m sure I was fighting off the fumes.

He started to tell me about his day job, and then as I politely replied with a typical “oh how wonderful” answer, he abruptly interrupted me. “OH MY GOD! You’re sooo posh! You’re like ‘ohhhhhhh how wonderful’, you sound like the queen.” Southern roots I hate you right now! I thought to myself, and I tried to tone down the Margaret Thatcher in me.

He told me he was a go-go dancer, and danced the night away in bars across Europe. “Oh… great… So, do you have to rehearse or anything?” My list of questions I had planned in my head were suddenly thrown off. Maybe this man was far too liberal for me. Scooby Doo knee drops were off the cards I think when it came to go-go dancing.

“I also do porn!”, I struggled not choke on the actual coffee cup, let alone the coffee. Now the last time this had happened to me I was sixteen and I travelled to Cambridge to go on a date, he was also a porn star, we had a night at Pizza Express and the night ended there.

*Sarcastic look* “So you find pleasure in your job then?” I asked with genuine interest. “Nah, not really… It takes around three to five hours to film, it’s just a job really.” THREE TO FIVE HOURS! I’m fed up after three to five minutes, and then I’m dying for a Horlics and to check Facebook, I mean, to read an intellectual book.

He went on to tell me all the nitty gritty and literally the ins and outs of every job he’s done. Don’t be rude! I mean working contract! As he was delving in to a large jar of Haribo at the bar, he was continuing to tell his graphic life whilst trying to feed me Haribo at the bar. “Thanks I’m fine… I don’t eat sweets after five, oh its three fifteen I feel like I’ve been listening to this for years…..”

*Continuous hand on the shoulder!* Oh no this will not be happening! So I ordered the bill and we returned to his chariot outside. “You’re so pure, you’re not shocked he said?” I was, I’d learnt more in the past hour than I had in the past twenty seven years! “No, nothing shocks me much these days!” Obviously I’ve led a very sheltered life!

As he sat on his scooter looking at me, he demanded the ever awkward question “So what are we doing now?” …. “Well, I’m going to go for a walk… You’re welcome to join, but if you have things to do that’s perfectly fine!” So along he came and moaned continuously about the speed people walk these days, for around ten minutes and then suddenly said: “Oh, I need to go home and shave my legs for tonight!” And with that off he went.

Shave my legs for tonight?….. I can’t be having somebody seven times the size of me holding up the bathroom for hours on end whilst I’m hop-scotching a wee-wee dance up and down the hall.

Thankfully my friend Gemma was just finishing up a date too, and was around the lower Marais for a low down. Wine and whines were certainly needed.

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