The internet in our apartment still isn't working and my school block's this website, so my opportunities to update my blog have been limited. Since I have such a big following, I'm sure this has been tragic. Luckily, I can now fill you in on the highlights of the last couple of weeks.
The Friday before last, I hit up a French club for the first time. It was my roommate's birthday, so we had the other language assistants of St-Omer over for dinner, and then we decided to go to Lille with one of their boyfriends and his French friends. It wasn't quite as exciting as I hoped it would be, but the good news is that we actually made it to the club. A bit of history for you: the last time I attempted to go clubbing in France, I ended up napping and peeing under the Eiffel Tower (not simultaneously, mind you).
We tried to get into this club that is supposed to be really good, but one of the guys we were with was deemed to be underdressed by the bouncer, so we all left and went to a salsa bar around the corner. I had an awesome sangria, but spent most of my time trying to avoid this obscenely drunk guy who kept weaving through our group and trying to get one of us to dance with him. So awkward - it was like watching a wolf try to pick off the weakest in the pack. Luckily, none of us fell prey to him.
Right at the end of the evening, I noticed a guy out of the corner of my eye who seemed to be staring at me. I glanced over, only to see him doing what looked way too much like the fishline. I swear, I think he was attempting to reel me in. Quickly, I looked away and tried not to send over any positive vibes. Yet a bit later he was still at it, and my friend Estela noticed and said, "C'est pour toi" (that's for you). I looked over again, and the guy was STILL staring at me, but instead of hand gestures, he had progressed to gyrating his hips in my direction in what I guess he must have thought was an irrisitable fashion. It was violating. I'm not kidding. This guy was a good six feet away from me, but he still managed to make me feel completely sketched out. I glared at him, turned back to my friends, and kept dancing. After a few minutes, Estela and I decided to take a break, so we went and sat down in a place that was out of the creeper's eyeline. Yet, he remained undeterred. He pelvic thrusted his way around the corner and continued trying to eyef*ck me. Not okay.
When we got up to leave the club, we had to walk right past him, so I decided to just not look at him and pass by as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, I wasn't quick enough: he managed to snag my arm and murmur, "Tu es vraiment charmante." I pulled my arm out of his grasp, shook my head at him, and kept going. Only slightly miffed, he continued to watch me as I grabbed my coat and left with our group. Seriously, what the hell? Someone needs to teach him how to read body language.
I'm in the UK right now staying with my friend Lucy in Penrith. It's not the most exciting little town, but it's cute. After our lunch yesterday, I decided that I want to live in a small Irish or British town and work at a pub. More updates later.
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