“My Guinness says so”

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May 1, 2014

The next day was one of the most important national holidays in France, Labor Day and everything was closed. My friend decided not to join us as we wouldn’t be able to visit the Palais de Toyko. This left the two of us in the rain without a plan. It was a miserable four hours before my flight back to Berlin. He looked disappointed my friend was not joining and he became critical and behaved like a boyfriend before they want to break-up.

At our first cafe of the day, he noted, “I think you’re lost and I hope you find yourself.”

At our second cafe, I ordered a crepe without even powered sugar on it. They were the saddest two little crepes I had ever seen, dry to eat and probably equally unappetizing to the person seeing me eat it.

I said, “Maybe my ordering the crêpes was Freudian, representing how I feel right now.”

He replied, “Freudian has to be sexual, like a dry crepe with nothing inside.”

I answered, “Yes.”

At our last cafe/hostel bar next to Gard du Nord, we each had a glass of Guinness. We shared our mutual love for the creamy, rich foam on top and how the rest possessed a heavy, getting it over and done with feel. We agreed the top was like the beginning of life and the bottom, analogous to a retirement home eating pizza. He said he felt he might not be able to love again, that he was exhausted. I told him maybe he hadn’t met the right person.

I told him about Shakespeares’ seven ages of man, the first an infant, then a schoolboy, a lover and a soldier. He said he was a soldier. I said I was too and that I hoped to one day leave that stage. Being a soldier sucked.

His parting well wishes to me were, “You’re going to find love, I can see it in my Guinness glass. My Guinness says so.”

He hugged me tightly and kissed me lightly, two soldiers parting to fight the world alone. However that wasn’t our last goodbye, distracted and full of thought, I went through the turnstile and saw an escalator going up and concluded I could not go down in that direction and walked straight through another exit turnstile. He came running out and breath but first laughing to tell me I had just exited.

His last words to me were actually, “Just follow the RER sign… ! ”

He told me about the girl he was once crazy in love with, ones he was just in love with, girls that were just 2.1, one that was the craziest thing he ever did. I was just the girl he wanted to kiss in Paris.

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