18 days too soon.

I’m now 18 sleeps away from Paris. How time flies, considering that I started my countdown at day 64 when he left for France.

I’m also very unprepared. All I’ve done is to casually read 1.5 guide books, with no notes taken or any concrete plans made whatsoever. I’ve always been an expert at procrastination but this time, even I have to admit that I’m being way too lax. Especially because he has just thrown the equivalent of a bucket of ice water over me by telling me that he’ll only stick around the first week, mainly for me to get my bearings right and then whoosh, off he goes.

I knew he wasn’t going to be around everyday, but one fucking week?! I could sense a slight miffiness in his tone of text when I exclaimed one week?! It’s hardly my fault if you’re way behind on schedule of your paintings because you spent so much time taking in the sights (I would just give up lugging and painting there in the first place because hello you’re on a holiday). Why are you also annoyed with me that your friends cannot confirm their plans with you? All I did was to innocently ask one week? and I get machine-gunned down by you. And I totes didn’t like the way he said “we can meet up as and when” as if he was trying to pacify me. Guess what, I don’t need you to go out of your way for me if you’re so unwilling to put me as a priority in the first place.

So I did what any mature and sensible adult would do. My replies were short and curt and we haven’t spoken since. Because I have such a huge ego, I mentally went FINE and have decided not to hang with him. Who needs you when I have my wonderful self? Hmmpphhhh. This holiday is sure moving in the right direction.

Which is why I’m slightly in panic mode now. I have to admit I was overly chill because I was going to rely on him there. And all these stories and warnings from well-meaning people about the dangers of a lone, female traveller are not helping to sooth my frayed nerves one bit. On the surface I’m acting like it’s all cool, but inside I’m actually pulling my frazzled hair out while running helter-skelter screaming my lungs out.

I can almost see myself spending way too much time in the apartment because of all these reasons combined, but the manly side of me also tells me to wake the fuck up and unshrink my balls because why would I spend all these money and time just to coop myself indoors?

If anyone is feeling extra sorry for me, any suggestions on where to go/ what to do would be deeply appreciated (I’m doing a virtual full body prostration). I will show him that I can do anything without him. I also think he takes me for granted, but that’s another story for another sleepless night. Bonne nuit!


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