French Lover

So I've gotten myself into this situation which feels oddly out of a movie. I met a French guy last Friday night in a bar. We were together until 4 am. Sunday we go out on a date an establish a pattern. He took me for a walk on the beach. We talked a little; he speaks very little English, which is good for me, so we're speaking French. We drive back to his apartment, fool around, which eventually leads to sex. He drives me home, says he'll call me.

During the week, I'm not holding my breath. I relay this story to my friends and they agree that I don't need a relationship, just a conversation partner and a fuck buddy. Not a bad idea. I send him a text message proposing this idea, subtly. He accepts. We eventually make plans to see each other on Sunday.

I find my way to his apartment....at first we sit watching tv, little movement, no conversation. The program finishes and we commence. The whole thing is nice; we have good physical chemistry....after I while, I lay there wondering if this is it. We don't really say anything. I feel like this is my fault because I'm not that great at French. Eventually I try to start a conversation...this is better.

I go home for dinner. He drives me and I throw my hair into a "sex hair" ponytail. I wonder if my host family notices that these past 2 sundays I come home with the ponytail and an air of rejuvenation. This is my Sunday routene.

I still need a picture of him to prove that this happened.