Nothing will make my children feel better than me back in the house with their dad. Some days like today I panic and just want to run back to the house and yell do-over, erase all that, I’ll come back in. And then someone reminds me there’s only one way forward and it’s far away from him. 
Looking at him yesterday across the room I was struck by how *not* a catch he is. It was a strange relief. 
And last night a gorgeous gentleman tried to pick me up at a restaurant. From his accent he might’ve been French. Anyway, super nice Hotel Monaco downtown has a nice restaurant and bar, kinda chic. Anyway, guy tries to get me to come sit by him at the bar but I’m waiting for my daughter. So I decline. At some point he came over and brought me an orange that he took off the bartender. “My gift to you.” I’m thinking–what does an orange mean? Orange blossoms are a symbol of fertility because they bloom constantly or something like that. Hmm probably it’s simply he’s a resourceful man who invites a woman with a kind and delightful gesture. I peeled and ate the orange slowly smiling to myself. It went well with the Vieux Carré I was sipping. My daughter arrived, we had a leisurely dinner, and just after the server had cleared our dishes, Le Gentilhomme des Oranges, as he shall be known, brought us two dishes of ice cream and said “never let it be said that I did not try, but I see now you were waiting for her.” And he made a quick and elegant exit. 

Naturally, I wish I could have at least talked with him. I am sure he would’ve said delightful things and charmed me utterly. But he will remain my very resourceful Gentilhomme des Oranges, the Gentleman of the Oranges, as I will remember him.  


3 thoughts on “Le Gentilhomme des Oranges

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