I know that I was supposed to go speed-dating à la française this week, but my schedule got a little hectic. So today’s post is a tribute to the men who think that the Paris metro is the perfect to place to romance a lady — the men who then proceed to fuck it up.
- He tried to lick me. (I swear, you can’t make this stuff up.) I managed to dodge his tongue, but lord, it was an unsettling sight to see a grown man try to lick my face.
Metro Casanova #2
- He came up behind me on the platform, put his head on my shoulder, and smelled my neck with a deep intake of breath. When I whipped around — guard up and ready to deliver a quick right jab to his nose — he said “I really like your shoes.” Ick-tastic.
Metro Casanova #3
- This guy is actually one of many. It’s one thing when everyone is jostling each other during rush hour — when everyone is packed in the car like sardines. However, the car was almost empty the other day, but this winner decided that this was a great time to come up behind me and attempt to dry hump me. Awesome.
- This was actually the second time that someone has said this to me in the past few weeks. He tapped me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear, “You look like a geisha.” Seriously, what did he expect to happen then? “Oh, let me pour your tea now, sir?” Hells no. I blame my red lipstick for this particular pick-up.
Metro Casanova #5
- Strangest pick-up line of the week: “Oh, you’re Vietnamese? My knife collection is Japanese.” Creepy? Or just a very enthusiastic chef? Uncertain.
To sum up, these past couple of weeks on the Paris metro have been pretty eventful.
Perhaps I shouldn’t wear a bright green coat or red lipstick.
Fuck it. I refuse to look drab just because a few weirdos get all up in my business.
That coat is a show-stopper (it gives me a Marilyn Monroe hourglass figure!), and I love rockin’ the Russian Red lip when I feel saucy.
So go ahead, creeps, lick me. Just don’t smudge my lipstick.