It's funny for me to think about how much my relationship with France has changed since moving to Paris. Even though I had an absolutely fabulous time in the US, by week three, I was starting to get an itch to come back. Me! Wanting to come back to France! Imagine that. I had to double check that hell had not frozen over during my absence. And the feeling was only cinched after watching Julie & Julia (IMO: the book is probably better than the movie). At $11 the movie ticket, it was a pretty expensive realization.

I'm very lucky though to have reconnected with several friends during my time there - I think after Fabrice and I broke up, I felt somewhat ashamed about the whole thing. Like I'd been thrown out like somebody's dirty laundry. Some of my friends from my "previous life" weren't even aware what had happened. So it was nice to catch up with them again and hear what they've been up to, especially my best friend from college.

There was something missing from my trip though - there were a few times when I'd get a twinge of "Gosh, this is so amazing - I wish I had someone to share this with". Like I was just bursting with love for what was happening at that very moment and I wanted to share that happiness with someone else.

But then on the other hand, I find myself letting the multiple emails from the bal de pompiers dude go unanswered.

I think it's still too soon. Or he's not the right one?

Maybe Paris is enough for me right now.