Parlez-vous français?

No, I don’t speak french. In fact, I had to google how to spell that title and if it’s still incorrect, can someone who is fluent in french please help a girl out?

I may not speak french but I do speak f*ckboy, in every language.

This dating story is about yours truly, her french neighbors and the AUDACITY.

One day I was chatting it up in the hallway of my apartment building with one of my neighbors, Al. When my other neighbor arrived home from work, he said hello and then went inside his home. I’ve encountered him a few other times in the elevator and he was always very sweet. He had a thick french accent and was always dressed to the nines, we’ll call him Pierre. (I’m going with stereotypical french names, don’t judge me.) Moments later Pierre came back out into the hallway to ask Al and I if we wanted to come over the following weekend for dinner, his roommate and him were moving out the Monday after and they were sad that we’ve never all hung out before. We agreed and exchanged phone numbers.

I’d never met Pierre’s roommate and I’d never run into him in the halls so I was excited to see who had been living next door to me for the past 6 months.

Saturday comes and I’m knocking on their door simultaneously with Al and a bottle of Rosé in hand…which turned out tasting like shit compared to the french wine they served us all night.

We drank wine, more wine and then more wine. We did have some quiche with our wine but the main course was just wine. My glass never got lower than half full and within two hours we were all drunk and having the best time. That’s when Jean, Pierre’s roommate suggests we play beer pong…but with wine. Brilliant.

Hold on, let me rewind. Jean the roommate, was a tall and fine looking french man. Personally Pierre was more my type and more attractive to me but turns out he had a girlfriend back in Germany, so that got shut down immediately. I have ZERO tolerance for cheaters, just ask my ex.

That’s a juicy story for another day.

Listen, I had no intention of trying to date one of my neighbors, that screams messy and toxic plus there’s literally no hiding from each other if things don’t work out. But hey, they were moving, I was on the edge of drunk and he had an accent. So yeah I was flirting. Sue me.

We start playing wine pong, Jean was making it very obvious that he was into me and I was enjoying the hell out of it. Just as Jean was about to make a shot he turns toward me and says “I need a good luck kiss” and plants one right on me, right in front of his roommate and Al. I gotta say these European boys are bold. I myself am not the biggest fan of PDA, but the best part in hindsight was he missed the shot…by a lot. HA.

After the game Pierre and Jean asked if they could see the layout of my place, I said sure and gave them a quick tour. I should’ve known this was a ploy. Al decided to head home being a bit more drunk than the rest of us and by home I mean across the hall. Looking back, I’m sure Jean said something to Pierre because shortly after Al left, I noticed Pierre had gone too. I was alone in my apartment with Jean and I knew we were not on the same page. Same BAC maybe but definitely not intimately. I called it, he dipped his tall ass down to kiss me again. I pushed him back and told him I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings so I excused myself to the restroom trying to play it up like I was actually sick from the wine.

I emerged from the bathroom and I started to say that I had just vomited when I find this boy BUTT ASS NAKED on my brand new white comforter and my brand new mauve throw blanket that I had just purchased from Home Goods for like $45!! Absolutely not sir, I don’t even lay on my white comforter. I slowly approach him as if he were some kind of wild animal about to attack.

I tell him again that I’m not feeling well, that I’ve had too much to drink and he needs to go.

He says (and I cannot make this shit up) “I have a date tomorrow morning with a younger and more beautiful girl than you, so as an older woman I think you should take this chance while it’s here.”

When I tell you I cackled. I CACKLED.

I’M 26 YEARS OLD AND I WAS JUST CALLED OLD.

I proceeded to grab his clothes and shoes off my floor and throw them into the hallway. I think he was still confused because he hadn’t moved off of my bed when I came back into my room. I told him to “get tf out of my place.” He wrapped my throw around him, dear god I almost had a stroke, and marched his way to my door. He turned around to say something but I ripped my blanket off of his waist and whatever else it was covering and pushed him into the hall. I said “enjoy your date tomorrow” before slamming the door in his face. I left him in the hallway booty ass naked and wow I’ve never felt more alive as an ‘older’ woman.

He called and texted me repeatedly for the next two days before they moved out but I didn’t return or respond to any of them. What was the point? I’m probably never going to see him again.

I think Pierre felt bad because he kept leaving fancy pastries at my door from the bakery he worked at. At least something good came out of it. I felt like the single version of Miranda where she substitutes chocolate for a relationship in season 4 and honestly I think she’s onto something.

Hindsight, it was a really funny and chaotic experience…after I got my throw blanket dry-cleaned. Now, can someone tell me how to say f*ckboy in french?

• *This is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to a real person or persons is entirely coincidental.*