The Parisian Male Model

He was reallllyy hot. So hot, that if I didn't have a boyfriend at the time, it would've been all over. Sold, deal signed, in the bag. BUTTT I had to resist my carnal desires since you kind of have to be, you know, faithful when you're in a committed monogamous relationship.

I was abroad in France. We met at a club on the Champs Elysées. What a hot story to tell our friends, family, and future children if we had married. I approached him--duh, probably my forte. I asked him to dance and let the rhythms of the pornographic techno music take us away on the floor. I wasn't even wearing a low-cut shirt, which is a great life lesson for the girl at work who doesn't even seem to know what a crewneck is: you can get a hot guy without showing him your boobs first.

Nothing happened but I entertained the idea of boning him on the banks of the Seine. Still haven't crossed that one off my bucket list, but I'll get there. I always do. He said he worked between London and Paris as a male model. Do I care if that was true or not? It could've been, so it was good enough for me. He said something along the lines of "Every girl I meet wants to sleep with me" and that American girls were the easiest. They always gave blowjobs, GREAT blowjobs.. HAH. Had he met his match! I hate giving head--at least all the way through. If head leads to sex, sign me up. Call me selfish if you want.

After we were done displaying our feathers of arrogance, the night somehow came to an end, and we exchanged numbers. He texted me the next day asking me what I was doing later in the evening. I said I might be heading out with some friends, and that I wouldn't mind meeting up with him. That's really the only kind of platonic dating you can do when you're committed to someone else. I don't really care if you call that being unfaithful. We were fucking continents apart for four months and I never touched a penis. You should call me a SAINT.

He explained that he'd rather do something alone, just the two of us, like watch a movie. In a bed, I'm guessing. Wow, I wonder what he wanted to do? I gave him a taste of rejection and he got angry. This is the best part about being in a relationship--you can be a complete mindfuck to every cocky guy you meet since you know you can't sleep with them. Don't worry, they definitely deserve a taste of their own medicine.

So, after he finished pouting, I politely asserted via texto, "Guess you don't fuck every girl you meet." And his penis probably inverted while he cried himself to sleep. Mission accomplished.