Robynn--French guys II

[Guest guest]

Robynn:

That would be a fun.

Tonight Philippe and I had a wonderful time.

As I was getting ready, I noticed the beginning of a small cold sore

on my lower lip. I was thinking, " Why now? " But when Philippe and I

met, he wasn't fazed. He said, " Feu sauvage. " I said, " What? " He

repeated " Feu sauvage. " I said, " Wild fire? " Then he reminded me

that that's the way you say cold sore in French. He joked, " See, I

knew you were dating a lot. You're like on Sex and the

City. "

I feigned indignity, and then he took me in his arms, and said, " I

can't kiss you tonight, but I can do other things, " and laughed

softly in my ear. It was nice to know he wanted to kiss me. I was

so glad that he didn't freak out about the cold sore. After the

joking, he made me feel at ease.

We walked all along the Embarcadero from the Hyatt Regency through

Levi Plaza to Fog City Diner. I took him along a route that

highlights some of the Embarcadero area's beauty. From time to time,

we would pass a hidden corner or a dark patch, and Philippe would

take me in his arms, sometimes kissing my neck, other times running

his hands up my back, other times just a full-out attack. He really

is like a playful puppy dog.

At one point he said, " Just so you know, you have plans for

Tuesday. " He was so funny the way he said it. It was like an order,

but flirtatious and fun.

I said, " Oh, do I? "

He told me that I'm going over to his place for supper (his Canadian

Anglophone vocabulary is so cute). He's making a Quebecois favorite,

haché chinois, otherwise known as Shepherd's Pie. We will be joined

by his Quebecois friend and 's boyfriend. (Hmm… I'm being

introduced to the friends… a good sign.) Then we will all end up at

a Holiday concert sung by the Gay Men's Chorus. He asked me what my

dietary limitations are and I explained them to him. I like that

he's taking an interest in how I eat.

Over dinner, I gave him a card that said, " For my part I know nothing

with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream. (Van

Gogh) " Inside I wrote, " Philippe, you are definitely a star. Con

cariño, Francisco. " Then I handed him a sachet filled with five

pewter wish stones: PEACE, FAITH, HOPE, STRENGTH, JOY. " This is what

I wish for you, " I said.

" Francisco, you are so full of surprises. Thank you. "

He arranged the wish stones on the table and admired them. It was

clear that he was touched by my gift. The waiter even commented, " I

see you've got your own little serenity garden there. "

The body issues came up again after dinner back at my place. He was

seated on the couch with my head resting on his lap. I was looking

up at him, his eyes meeting mine. I was so completely happy. The

rugged, manly features of his face softened with tenderness, as he

ran his fingers through my hair. I could feel his heart beating. My

cheek was pressed up against his stomach, his incredibly taught and

ripped abdominal muscles making a pillow that thrilled and comforted

me. I wanted to stay there forever. The passion between us grew as

the night wore on. His hands began exploring the areas that make me

most insecure—my chest and stomach. His touch was gentle yet strong,

and my old negative tapes made me uncomfortable, but then, in a

moment of release and surrender, I let go. This is who I am, I

realized, somehow without even thinking the words.

If he wants to get to my heart, he'll have to love and accept the

sacred vessel that contains it. But somehow, this passionate,

wonderful man was not repulsed by what he felt under his touch. In

fact, judging from his reaction (need I say more?) he was more than

OK with the way my body felt.

He took my face in his hands, and kissed my cheek. Then he playfully

bit my nose and my chin then he kissed my eyelids. " I can't help

myself, " he groaned than kissed half of my mouth. " I can only kiss

half tonight, but I must kiss you… "

Feu sauvage, eh? Wild fire and feu sauvage took on a whole new

meaning last night. My heart has been opened, and Philippe is

gaining access to my deepest affections by getting past my scariest

insecurities about my body. I'm not stopping him. He is welcomed to

come in to my heart as far as he likes. I sense his spirit

connecting to mine. I feel his handprint on my heart.

After I dropped him off at his place and returned home, I crawled

into bed, my head and heart filled with visions and feelings about

Philippe. Could he be the one? I woke up today muttering something

in French, but I can't remember what. All day, in every secret

moment, my whole being was whispering a prayer, voicing a desire that

has but one word: " Philippe. "

Francisco

>

> Double dates, anybody? It sounds like he and are a lot

alike. It's so amazing to have such an open person, not playing

games, just being frank and ready and willing and able.

>

> So, we can go out and they can prattle in French (and we can tag

along with our less than perfect French.) What do you think?

>

> He sounds like a keeper.

>

> Robynn