The French Translator

I inadvertently found a beautiful woman in Brussels about a month into the hobby. Corinne. A translator, not an escort.

She was in town competing for some translation work.  We met in the hotel bar. It was packed. I was at the bar having some soup and a beer. She had a small table, and was devouring an enormous pizza alone. It was cute. This beautiful woman stuffing her face like a teenager.   Sher caught me watching her, chuckled, gave me a big smile and resumed her assault on the pizza.

I step away from my seat to the rest room. When I return, a fat German has taken my seat. My beer is still there in front of him. He does not speak English. However, I can tell by his hands what he means: “You got up, this seat is mine now.” There are no more seats at the bar.  The tables are all taken.  

There is an open seat at her table.

Never in my life, have I successfully picked up a woman in a bar. She glances up at me while I am trying to figure out what to do.

What the hell. Go big or go home.

I walk over.  Smile.  “May I join you?”

She seems surprised. “Quoi?”

“May I join you?” Smile. Shut up.

She sees my ring. A little unsure….

“Oui, yes, please sit down.”

The bartender, a young French guy named Dominick, is observing this. He gives me a thumbs up, and brings me a new beer, apologizing to me about the German. “This is a better seat for you anyhow. That beer is on me.” Big smile. “You two get to know each other.”

You gotta love a good wingman.

It is about 7 pm. Corinne and I start talking. We connect. She thinks Dominick’s not so subtle attempt to fix us up is cute. She met him the night before. They are both from the suburbs of Paris.

As the night goes on, we are getting on well. Similar sense of humor, random topics, music, business, etc. She has a full day of interviews starting at 7:30 am. Dominick keeps us fueled with beer. With each new beer, she scolds him “I need to get some sleep!” His refrain: “Uno mas!”

10 pm the bar thins out. Dominick announces that it is his birthday.  The manager’s gift to him is give free drinks to anyone who will stay and help celebrate. A few of his friends show up. We sing happy birthday in French at the top of our lungs.

“Uno Mas!”

11pm. The shots come out. I have no idea what we are drinking.

“Uno Mas!”

2 am. We are all drunk as hell. The bar finally closes. Corinne and I stumble to the elevator. It stops on her floor first. She looks me in the eye for a very, very long moment. She is considering me.

It came out during our conversation that she is fresh out of a long term relationship.

I lean forward a slight bit. She starts in, but at the last moment dives to the side. Kisses me on the cheek. “I have to get some sleep!” Sultry grin.

I step back. Ask if I can keep in touch with her, she agrees.

I see her at breakfast. We are very hung over, but she looks great. I wish her luck and ask her to email me how the interviews go.

We corresponded quite a bit after I flew back to the states. G rated. Mostly about the translation business, with a little flirting mixed in.

A month later I’m headed back to Europe. I arrange a 3 day stopover weekend in Paris . Offer to meet Corinne for dinner. She accepts. I rent a car. Drive to her small town on the outskirts of Paris. Get a room at a small inn near where she lives. Friday night she meets me on the street outside my hotel.  We walk to her favorite pizza place.

Another waiter. Another wingman. This one is protective of her, but glad to see her on a date. We feast on pizza and beer. Again, great conversation. She mentions during dinner that she has a full day of work Saturday. She tutors English on the weekends.  Probably giving herself a bail out of the date….We sit there for hours. Close the restaurant down. It’s almost midnight, she takes my arm. Walks with me back to my hotel on cobblestone streets in the fog. Outside the hotel. I invite her up. She declines. Again a kiss on the cheek. CRAP.

She strolls off into the fog.

Next day, I make a tactical decision the next morning decision to not pursue her heavily. I book a nice hotel in Paris the rest of the weekend for myself and head up there around 10 am.

We correspond a bit in the morning. I brought her a book as a gift, and forgot it at dinner. She loves murder mysteries. I brought her an American one.

She says she’s willing to meet me for the book if I am in her town still. I tell her I’ve left for Paris a few hours before. She flirts a little more with me on email. But no real progress. She is being coy. I don’t bite. I say I enjoyed dinner and I would love to see her again the next time I am in France. She leaves me with the final reply.

“until next time 🙂 “.

No contact since.

One Comment Add yours

  1. TheBloggingSD says:

    What a tease! That story was getting to be great.


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