Once upon a time, I mailed a black, lace g-string across the ocean from Canada to Paris. Legend says men at war used to receive similar packages from their wives to remind them of what they were fighting for. I figured I’d give it a go.
When I was travelling Europe with my best friend, who we’ll call Ciao Ciao, we met a group of English lads at a bar one night in Rome. At this point in our trip, Ciao Ciao and I had become professionals at making friends. We’d whip out a deck of cards and the people would flock! From what I’ve heard, the game Horserace has been trending in Europe since two Canadian gals toured the continent, teaching hundreds how to play.
Ciao Ciao and I had joined forces with a third gal, Mickey Mouse, and the three of us entered the dark basement bar to find a group of people playing beer pong. We knew we were okay at pong and wanted to play so we skipped the queue and played the winning duo of the previous game. Ciao Ciao and I lit that place up. We were great! Naturally, we quickly made friends.
Among those in the basement was a lad we’ll call Beckham. He instantly caught my eye and Ciao Ciao, Mickey Mouse and I started hanging around his group. We all got on well and spent the rest of the evening together. One thing led to another and I went back to Beckham’s hotel room with him.
The thought of sleeping in a hotel bed was exciting enough for me. We had been in hostels for most of the trip so I was happy to spend the night in a private room. Beckham and I had a great time.
I woke up the next day feeling extremely nauseous, as per usual. Alcohol doesn’t quite sit well in my weak stomach, but somehow I mustered up the courage to hold back my vomit.
Beckham’s mate, Posh, was on his way back to the room after spending the night in our shared hostel room with Mickey Mouse. Bless him, he wasn’t too pleased when he called us in the morning to let us know that we had plans to go to the Colosseum all together. He had slept in a single bottom bunk with Mickey Mouse.
I rushed back to our hostel, stopped at a variety store for some water, got myself sorted and pushed through the nausea so I could pleasantly spend the rest of the day with my new boyfriend.
We all met up a bit later, went into the Pantheon and had lunch before splitting ways. Get a load of this; Beckham was English, living in Paris, on exchange from his university in Texas. I was flying out of Paris and we’d be going there in two weeks. We agreed to meet up.
I was super eager to see Beckham again. I just liked his vibe; funny, very nice, tall! 5 stars! We met up on our second night in Paris for drinks. Ciao Ciao and I went for dinner before, where I had 3 glasses of wine and the bartender mixed us a tequila drink. I was totally drunk when I arrived to see Beckham. We shared a bottle of wine. My teeth must have been the crimson red. Then we went to a second location for another drink. Drink count: like 10 for fuck sake.
Beckham said he had a surprise for me back at his apartment. I didn’t know what to expect of the surprise. I was nervous it would just be his willy, though he didn’t seem like the type to whip it out like that. When we got to his apartment, I was met with a beer. How I didn’t black out is a mystery for Holmes himself.
He brought me up to the roof of his apartment and we sat and watched the Eiffel Tower light up and drank Peroni’s. I mean come on! I was hooked!
I stayed the night at Beckham’s and then went back and saw him again the following night. I was seriously obsessed and we just had such good banter. The chat was there!
The final morning of our love affair, we woke up super early. Beckham and his roommate had a planned school trip to Germany and an early train to catch. Our hostel was next to the station so I went along with them.
It was kind of sad. I knew it was just a Euro fling but I liked Beckham and we had a lot of fun. It was also the last day of my trip. Things were coming to a close.
Ciao Ciao and I spent our final day together in Paris. We wound up at an Indie Pop concert that turned into a bit of a mosh but was a blast nevertheless. When I checked my phone, Beckham was messaging me about my flight details. I had checked in earlier in the day.
When I asked him why he was wondering, he told me how much he regretted going to Germany. He had been on the phone with an Air Canada representative trying to see if he could change my flight after I had checked in. He wanted me to stay with him in Paris for a few more days. He was going to get an early train home the next morning.
I was like OH MY GOD MY DAD IS GOING TO KILL ME LET’S DO IT! The woman on the phone said the only way was to cancel the flight completely and rebook a new one. He said he would buy my flight. I said my father would have a heart attack. I left the next morning.
I still keep up with Beckham. I honestly just enjoy hearing what he’s up to and I guess he must feel the same. Pen pals are kind of in right now! Get into it!
Beckham sent me a post card and one of his t-shirts a few weeks after I returned home. I returned the favour with a hand-made card and a pair of my underwear, which I’d put a spell on so that he’d never forget me.
Forget Me Not Potion Recipe :
- Freshly laundered.
- 1 sprits of Glossier perfume.
I hope to see Beckham again, though the legend never mentioned if the old g-string in the mail trick worked. I’ll be crossing my fingers, toes and panties!