Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Awkward, Painful, but Admittedly Delicious, Day Trip to Nuit St. Georges

Alive: Yes. Having recently bore witness to another beautiful country village in France: Yes. Mentally unscathed: No.

Yes, I just spent the entire day with my English student "Scratchy" after agreeing to go on a motorcycle adventure with him. I stuffed my head in a sweaty, stinky helmet, clung to his back, and endured an hour of thinking I was near death due to heatstroke as we blazed along en route to Nuit St. Georges. I'll admit, travel, France, and the little villages of Burgandy have a habbit of tossing my heart above my head and tugging dramatic tears of happiness from my eyes, so I savored this joy as much as I could wile trying to ignore my less than comfortable company. It is really hard to be friendly, casual, and personable with a guy if you're desperate to keep from giving the wrong impression. This difficulty only increases with alchoholic intake.

We were starving when we arrived in the village center and I was completely ecstatic when we sat down in a little cafe. Have I mentioned that I love eating? Honestly I think it may be my favorite thing to do in life. I happily ordered an amazing salad with toasted chevre and easily the best sun-dried tomatoes that have ever existed EVER. They were soft and sweet, (not chewy or tough) and frankly sent me into a coma of pleasure that allowed me, for the moment, to completely forget about Scratchy's increasingly annoying advances.

I managed to sustain my bliss until he started trying to feed me with his fingers, which I kinda suspected would happen since he all ready tried once with a chocolate almond during a lesson. This time it was little green olives. After the first glass of wine I was like "no way!" and after the second I was like "dude, seriously, no way," and after the third glass I was like "...yeah ok whatever."

So I let myself be sensually fed and stupidly let all my worries of platonic-ness melt away. After the food we walked around the village center; I managed to avoid hand holding but stupidly, out of guilt and a liquored mentality, consented to holding his arm as we wandered about. Yes, I'm an idiot. When the evening came we went to a wine bar and I was treated to yet another delicious glass of Côte de Nuits. It was nice, but I was seriously aching to get away from this guy before I did anything else retarded. 7 hours + of flirtatious, hopeful glances from a guy you like increasingly less but are helplessly leading on because you're dumb and eating up his money as time goes by can really start to turn a stomach after a while.

Finally I expressed that my feet were tired and insisted that he put me back on his bike and get me home. Another hour of noise and speeding, and we were at the dreaded doorstep good-bye and thank you. Here's where things get hairy. I started planning the escape maneuver when we entered Dijon: I was going to jump off the bike, act as much like a guy-pal as possible, offer a power fist bump, and turn on my heels. A normal guy would just sulk and motor off, right?

I don't even know how this happened by here's what I remember: He rolls the bike up on to the sidewalk and leans it on the kick stand. I'm completely exhausted and dehydrated from all the wine and feel like I'm going to die; I swing my leg over, hop off the bike and then- my thoughtful, presumably non-agresive, semi timid English student, GRABS HOLD OF MY SHOULDERS and totally face plants me with a kiss like he knew I was going to run away. Despite my misery and schock I'm evidently too nice a person to utter a cry of disgust, push him away and initiate a slap like anyone in the movies would, so I sorta just, stiffened and waited... trying to be... unresponsive, but in a... friendly way?? ..against his mouth.

Finally, what I seriously hope was only a few seconds later because it FELT like an eternity, he gave up and I sort of issued an unsure "sorry I don't like it" kind of ..grunt. He looked awkwardly at the sidewalk and I hurriedly added a "thank you! It was amazing and really fun!" While digging, as obviously I could, for my keys in my pocket.

A few more awkward words were exchanged and I finally felt sufficiently liberated to turn, stick my keys in my door, and escape into my corridor. Wow, it feels good to be alone. Wow, my next lesson with him is going to be awkward. Wow. Now I crash.

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