Delilah: It’s the illusion of anonymity I desire. No one’s really anonymous anymore. The veil is as tenuous as my dignity. They’re perfect for each other.

Alexander: My friend ended up dating a guy who took three days to respond to every text message. Over the course of six months. This country, despite its fantastic drugs, is a wasteland of horror.

Cecily: In fact, I have a French versus German man dilemma right now.

Charles: Don’t settle for Belgian. Half-measures never work. Just ask Belgium.

Alexander: I still cannot believe that I’m going on a second date with somebody poor. But, he actually knew what I meant when I said “My life is a Hegelian vortex of malaise”, so I’m inclined to pursue this.

Cecily: She likes using Tipex in her grid-lined book. This says more about her character than her wildly coloured dresses and black tights. What kind of person uses tape whiteout? Much less branded whiteout. Much less on a grid-lined book.

Vivienne: She’s going to Yale in the summer.

Cecily: We upset the karmic balance of our flat by allowing a drag queen sex act to happen in it. Now all that is left to do is fornicate wildly, with different people, in our separate bedrooms, and pray zealously until the Spring is over.

Nikki: I had a marriage proposal from an ancient Tamil poet laureate’s family. My parents aren’t looking, but people ask for me all the time. I was keen. He is connected and has a legacy and a family name in textbooks. But mother declined before she even sent the proposal to me.

She said I was far too young for marriage. They’re Chennai-based. She has doubts I’d “hack it out” there. To that I say ‘What is not to “hack out”? I speak Tamil fluently.’

But most of all, he’s also in “the media”. So how is he ever going to get a job? My grandchildren need to eat.

To that, I say ‘royalties’.

And here I thought that having immigrant parents might have some perks. Wrong.

Cecily: Might as well have been born white.

Alexander: I am going on a second date with a busker. What has happened to me?

Cecily: It is the era of bad choices and good music and no haircuts. Hair cutting is a ritual that this summer does not deserve.

Cecily: With all of this talent I could be conquering the world or eating a millefeuille or painting my nails or planning an ‘Expats Against France’ protest. Fuck, I’m waxing poetic in Hades… if Hades were painted matte green and abounded in black plastic chairs.

Cecily: There’s a Serbian who wants to meet me at Odeon on Thursday night and my French adopted stepmother thinks he’s going to sell me into sex slavery. Thoughts?

Mary: Interesting. More background on the individual?

Cecily: He’s cute. Met him near Opéra. But I’m naturally suspicious of the Serbs. And even more naturally suspicious of anything outside of the Marais.