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I walked down the street, headed for the only bar I knew in the area. And the only reason I knew about this bar was that I had passed it on my way to get coffee that morning. I can't even remember what it was called.
 
There were still at least 20 people in it, but it wasn't packed, which was nice. As I walked through the door, I caught the eye of the handsome man smoking a cigarette outside. "Oh, he's cute," I thought. But, as I never have much luck with romance in Brooklyn, I ignored it. I went to get myself a beer.
 
As the bar tender handed my beer to me, a voice behind me said, "Bon soir." I turned around and there, right beside me, was the handsome French man. We spoke short, quick sentences in French before I relented and told him that I'm an American. Then we'd switch to English, and sometimes French, and back to English. He was just as amazed that I was only in Paris for two days. That I had arrived earlier that morning. Man, this guy was cute.
 
We went outside for a smoke and he asked me if I like Brazilian music. I said yes, citing my love of Caetano Veloso and the like. He said he wanted to bring me somewhere. "This is more modern Brazilian music," he told me, but he thought I'd enjoy it anyway. Down the block was a secret little Brazilian club, with a Brazilian band playing, and people shaking their hips. We had a beer there, talked about bands that we love (especially The Black Lips) and then we had another smoke. "Oh and let me show you this!" he said.
 
We walked a block or two away and found this little cafe that was oddly still open at, er, whatever hour it was. We bought a beer which, turns out, was our "entrance ticket" to the crazy little dance party downstairs. A dance party with a carpet for a dance floor. Laser lights, popular music. We had another beer and talked and laughed and then he kissed me.
 
After that, we got beers to go and decided to drink them on the steps of Sacré-Coeur, which was only a few minutes away. I was so happy.
 
Something sparked between us, because he and I were inseparable the next day. After a morning of sleeping in, he took me sight-seeing, and walked me all around Paris. We saw the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Saint Michel, the Centre Pompidou, and more. We even spotted the Tour de France going by. He helped me pick out vintage postcards to send to my friends. He bought me a light dinner in an awesome little cafe that resembled an American diner-gone-French. We relaxed in a plaza next to Centre Pompidou and listened to the street musicians.
 
The only time we did separate was when I had to go back to Thomas' place to welcome Thomas home. I bought dinner for Thomas as a "Thank you" for letting me stay at his place. I told Thomas about my trip, about how I missed the concert, about how it was okay because I made so many new friends. Then Thomas told me to go meet my new boy again, since it was my last night in Paris. It didn't take much to convince me. I hurried over to his place.
 
The Parisian boy and I kissed, and drank tea, and smoked cigarettes. We listened to music and I told him about the Watts Towers in Los Angeles. He played some music on his computer, some bands I had never heard. Then, we went to sleep.
 
In the morning, I slipped out of bed to gather my stuff up for the airport. He was still sleeping. I took out one of the vintage postcards wrote my address on it, and left it on his table. (I hope he sends it!) He woke up and I sat on the bed next to him. He kissed my forehead and asked me to leave my email address for him. So I did.
 
And I bet you're all wondering what happened after I left Paris...
 
Well, let's just say I am already planning my next trip back to that City of Romance.