In between work and being the fromage in the middle-aged lesbian baguette at Avenue Foch I reflected on my broken relationship with Claire a lot. I hadn’t spoken to her since our fight a couple of weeks earlier. I had been to her apartment once to pick up my stuff, which was not a whole lot, when she was at work and just left the keys on the kitchen table. We had obviously broken up, but it was not a resolved matter. Louise sent me a few e-mails to express some more regret and guilt. I decided to ignore them for as long as I could. I met up with Vincent regularly. We tried not to talk about Claire or Louise too much because it was awkward for him and painful for me. He even visited me at my new quarters and I introduced him to my somewhat twisted lady benefactors. I knew he had been working on a big celebrity-related benefit project for Claire (because he couldn’t stop talking about it) and it was about to culminate into a glitzy launch event. I knew he wanted me to attend. He had invited most of his friends in order to show us all the fruits of his labour, and that he was more than the guy who picked up Claire’s dry-cleaning.

That’s how one Friday night I found myself all tarted up in a cab on my way to Le Queen, Paris’ biggest gay night club turned fancy reception venue for the occasion, nervously awaiting a clumsy encounter with Claire. And Louise. I felt so ill at ease that I almost didn’t go in, but sometimes you just have to let friendship prevail. I found my friends and was relieved that Louise wasn’t there yet and I could muster up some liquid courage before having to face her. From my safe corner I could see Claire working the room, smiling exuberantly when necessary and looking sincere when being engaged in more serious conversations. I loved seeing her in action like that. She was so busy I was sure I wouldn’t have to worry about talking to her until later that night, if at all. So I let my hair down a bit, knocked back several glasses of Veuve Clicquot and entered into a heated discussion with Laurent, Vincent’s love interest, on, what else, open relationships. Just as the words “in my opinion, and I speak from experience, you may as well have no relationship than an open relationship” were leaving my mouth, I heard an all too familiar voice coming up behind me. It was Claire, who greeted me with what seemed like the same brazen arrogance that had terrified me when we first met. “Interesting debate, Lee. Who’s winning?” I had nothing left to say. But I tried anyway.

“Good evening, Claire. Great party.”
“Ooh, I wouldn’t call it a party when Vincent is in earshot. He may never want to speak to you again.”
“He did a great job.”
“Definitely. I wouldn’t know what to do without him. So, you’re not staying at his place anymore?”
“No, it’s a bit too small for two people.”
“Where are you living then? If I may ask?”
“With friends.”
“Do I know them?”
“No, I don’t expect you do.”
“Is there something romantic going on?”
“No, of course not. You and I just broke up.”
“What about Louise?”
“What about her?”
“Are you seeing her?”
“No, are you?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because with you Claire, you just never know.”
“Look, can we speak in private one of these days please? I need to tell you something.”
“I don’t think so. Can’t you just tell me now?”
“I could but I don’t think this is the right place.”
“Stop beating about the bush. Just tell me.”
“OK. There’s really no way to break this to you gently, but, well, I met someone.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m dating someone, a woman. Her name is Isabelle.

That’s when I really had nothing left to say. And I hadn’t even spoken to Louise yet.

To be continued…