A fine wine, a conversation
Deep crimson color. Full-bodied taste. What could be better than a wonderful Côtes du Rhône in hand, and conversation shared with a friend in France?
That friend is a journalist who writes with a refined eye and wicked wit on all things stylish and oh-so French. And what subject comes up? Paris Fashion Week? It’s a reasonable guess. Mais non. The proper temperature for a Chateauneuf-du-Pape? Not exactly. Something even better. Eh oui, we speak of French men. And as she is married to one (her Reason-for-Living-in-France), she understands my need to set the record straight. I mean no disrespect to the many remarkable gentlemen in my own country, but I feel compelled to express why French men are utterly irresistible.
And so, I made a delightful excursion to Tish’s place, A Femme d’un Certain Age, where I offer my thoughts on this subject. And here, I permit myself a slightly racier version. No objections, I imagine?
Are French men irresistible?
Are French men really irresistible?
I even took an hour to actually enjoy the web, buzzing with all manner of pleasurable and intriguing vibes. I read about how 
Hell, I’d empty the sperm bank if I had one around and thought it would help me crack a smile. I’d shake shake shake as much as I could from any of those vessels, to collect a clinking coin or drizzly drop of humor. More specifically, good humor. And today, I can’t seem to do it. I can’t find “the funny.” And that worries me.
“Bound to the tides and moon” is a romantic notion, isn’t it? Still, there’s no question that women are subject to distinct rhythms. Sure, our monthly cycles are powerful stuff, but it’s something more – emotional, physical, and social needs that seem to ripple through our organs and our moods, as unrelenting as any hormonal surge.
I’ll state this up front. This isn’t the usual morning musing. But hang in. It may be useful.
