Archive for April, 2011

Padlocks on the Pont des Arts

Sunday, April 17th, 2011

All shapes, colours, and sizes, I discovered hundreds of padlocks locked on the Pont des Arts!  This pont is THE place where lovers meet!  As I walked along reading  messages vowing eternal love on the “Cadenas d’amour” (love padlocks), I met a most charming young photographer who shot the pic below.

 He told me about how love-struck couples all over the world follow Paris’ romantic ritual – Italy, China, Russia, Hungary to name a few. And once you throw that key over the edge, you are love locked forever….

The Two Second Woo (or in my case, Won’t)

Friday, April 15th, 2011

In his 2005 book “Blink”, the slick marketing guru, Malcolm Gladwell, wrote about “rapid recognition” and “when you meet someone for the first time …., your mind takes about two seconds to jump to a series of conclusions.” Well, Mr. Gladwell, you were absolutely right…it did take exactly that – 2 seconds!

This week’s dating (mis)adventure was with a gum-chewing (1 second) Mr. Trump Twin, minus the millions, the Armani suit, and…well, I’m still not sure about that toupee.

As we walked to our table, he turned to me and suggested we sit side by side (2 seconds)…”um, er…NO! I’ll sit HERE, you sit THERE.” Too much cushion caused me to sink in my chair with my chin about an inch above the table when suddenly I heard, “You really should come over and sit beside me.”

“Anyone out there who could help this man understand what “N-O” spells?” I had wanted to shout out loud but instead I said, “Check, please!” And although, Mr. Gladwell, I was unable to get a reading on the toupee, I did confirm, without a doubt, he was clearly not a Trump.

Way Laid At the Local Gym

Wednesday, April 6th, 2011

Greeted by Mr. Muscle Man at the local gym.  I replied with a smile and went home.

Following day, done with workout, I met Mr. Muscle Man once again.  Asked if this was his 2nd home, he remarked it must be also be mine.  While I gathered up my gym bag and coat, he disappeared up the flight of stairs to head me off at exit.  Way laid with no other escape in sight, I braced myself for the requisite small talk. 

He was polite, full of flattery but then asked, “How old are you?”  Oops, a dealbreaker if ever there was one.

“Old enough to know not to answer or to ask,” as I smiled, waved farewell, and thought “no love(s) lost” again!