“You ready for this Ethan?”
“No. I think that I can safely say that I am not ready for a night out, erm, on the town, or whatever the girls said.”
“I meant are you dressed? And it’s en ville here, gotta get the language to get the girls! And I say allez les filles, you know what I mean?”
“Well of course I am dressed! I was dressed before you got out of the shower! No, I don’t know what you mean Sparx, you are speaking French and are probably still managing to incorporate an innuendo into the conversation.”
“...You know me too well Ethan.”
Ah, I miss banter. It doesn’t really work as such with Ethan, and the girls aren’t much good either. Don’t suppose any French lads would be up for some good, solid mick taking – they take their hairstyles and their poodles and their own egos way too seriously for that...
Okay, so mild stereotyping there; I’m pretty sure the guys out tonight won’t be toting any kind of dog around, well, maybe a bitc– that was a poor joke mate, be glad you’re still talking inside your head!
“I said “Are YOU ready for this Sparx?””
Well, he tries.
“Oh, right. Sorry, I was off on one.”
“It's understandable, you are looking into a mirror; it is very easy to lose oneself in a reflection.”
Oh god, so I am. Well gimme a break, I am really, really, ridiculously goodlooking.
Imagine that last sentence said in a Derek Zoolander accent to avoid coming across completely stuck up in my own head.
But see, I figured this was the first and last Saturday we’d get a look round the Paris nightlife, with our own ID and everything (everybody sing along, “yippee yippee, no fake for me!”) – if I was gonna pull and, let’s face it, that’d be pretty awesome in Paris, it was tonight. How to go about this I wasn’t so sure yet, but I’d heard that alcohol can melt language barriers like ice cream in the microwave, like a snowflake in summer, like acid on your – you get the idea.
If you asked me how I make my hair so awesome, I couldn’t actually tell you. It happens somewhere in between musing in front of the mirror and checking my pockets for keys, wallet and pho- oh wait, no phone. So no “I’ll call you guys later” for me. That may change plans.
One last check: clean jeans, yes; proper belt, yes; white shirt, is that maybe too much? Nah go for it... aand, collar up, sleeves up, where’s my spray? Lynx had better be internationally attractive; maybe it only attracts English girls, which defeats the point of taking it on a gap year. Note to self, go to a pharmacy when the girls aren’t looking. And hair, yes hair is perfectly messy, as always. Now a cheesy grin in the mirror - brilliant.
“Alright Ethan, let’s go!”
Erm, you know that feeling when you’re talking to someone in a room and then you turn around and then they aren’t there? How awkward and silly you feel, but no one’s around to watch? Yeah, right there, that’s what it was.
Gone to hurry up the girls, we were supposed to leave at 20.00h if you wanted to get food first. Did you realise you were humming?