Cecily: We called him Frederic for two hours before we realised that it was not his name. A twenty two year-old comedian with a provincial French accent, he slithered up to us when we were all eyes-peeled for benefactors, and poised to target men with Berlutti shoes. I use the word “slithered” a little callously. But slippery, young, money-hungry women look more like goddesses than snakes, and poor French boys looking for a little love lust can at times be scrawny and clothed in snake green. Frederic was.
romance
Two friends, on love.
Alexander: Love is an illusion, death is inevitable.
Cecily: Love is not an illusion. Marriage is inevitable. I will be happy.
Alexander: The very existence of love, or indeed any sentiment, is questionable. Marriage is a social construct. Happiness is rampant hedonism.
Two friends, on reputation.
Cecily: I looked for you today at your Couleur Café.
Arnaud: Couleur Café isn’t my café anymore. Some rumours about me were born in that hellish place.
Cecily: I have had many rumours spread about me throughout Paris. Lights, camera, scandal! In fact, the staff at Le Meurice told a man I was courting that I was a high class escort.
Arnaud: People!
Cecily: Well, it’s expected in Paris. I kill them with my kindness and my charm.
Arnaud: You should consider swords.
Cecily: Sometimes my kindness comes off too flirtatious though…
Arnaud: Oh, I see. “I am not a hooker. I would like you to invite me to Arpège for dinner to explain it all”.
Two friends, on parents.
Cecily: At least your parents know who you are.
Alexander: They’re from Texas. They have no clue how to handle the malaise-riddled, bilingual, gender non-binary gay man that shares their genetics. They’d die of aneurysms if they met the people with whom I keep company: charlatans, musicians, career hedonists, trust fund druggies, and the older men with whom I seek to fill my paternal void (usually via sex and misplaced feelings).
Alexander to Cecily, on pending solutions.
Alexander: I will offer tentative solutions to all of your problems once I’m not so défoncé.
Alexander, on destiny.
Alexander: Whenever I move back to Paris I’m going to live in the 10ème and eventually marry Xavier Dolan. I’ve realised it to be my destiny.
Cecily, on dinner.
Cecily: Sincerely, I just cried over my gravlax.
Cecily, on stars.
Cecily: Stars are the part of the sky that glitter remembered.
Carlo, on lovers.
Carlo: People who are in love are always right.
Cecily, on a French man by the fountain.
Cecily: His legs were crossed and his pant leg skimmed just above his sock, exposing a little rectangle of skin. Apart from this, he was wrapped in black. It was extremity erotica. He was a geisha.
thedailymails 