Ever since I’d got the confirmation email a few weeks ago, I’d barely thought of anything else.
Anytime I had to deal with a difficult customer or colleague, I’d just tell myself that there wasn’t long to go until I’d be in Paris with a handsome stranger.
The girls at work were all dying to hear who I’d been set up with. When they first asked what kind of guy I was looking for, I’d said I had no idea, which was true.
I’d spent so long focusing on work and Ricky that I’d never even allowed myself the luxury to dream about it. But this past week, I’d given it a lot of thought.
I wasn’t too fussed about his looks. It’d be good if he was a bit taller, but I’d rather date a short man who respected me than a 6ft Adonis who attracted all the ladies and treated me like shit.
Personality and having a kind heart were more important. In my experience and from what I’d heard from the girls at work who dated a lot, the guys that were hot were too flighty. They were always looking for someone prettier or sexier and I didn’t want to just be someone’s temporary option.
I’d love to be matched with a man who was my age or a few years older, so we’d have similar life experiences. Ideally, he’d already have adult children, because I didn’t want any more kids or to become a hands-on stepmother.
If I had the choice, it’d be good to be matched with someone who worked in a customer-focused role, maybe in an office environment too, so that we could vent to each other at the end of a long day. But that wasn’t really important. So long as he could pay his way, that’d be fine.
Juliette raved about the joys of dating a man with money and on the questionnaire she’d even said that I was looking for a guy who liked ‘the finer things in life’, which wasn’t true. I made sure I changed that straightaway because as weird as it sounded, I’d prefer if the man I dated earned a similar amount. If he was well-off, I’d always be worrying about him flashing the cash or acting like he was more important and in control. I’d been independent for a long time, so I didn’t need a bloke to take care of me.
Hmmm, what else?
Juliette had raved about the ‘talents’ of French men, but I’d prefer to be matched with someone who was based in London. Even though France was just a few hours away, I didn’t want a long-distance relationship. That’d be too much work and right now I was looking for an easy, stress-free life.
The Love Hotel customer service rep said she couldn’t guarantee where my match would be from, but apparently the French resort had the highest number of guests from London and South-East England so that was already a great sign.
So, in a nutshell I was looking for a forty-something man, living in London with a ‘normal’ job. That didn’t seem like too much to ask, right?
Antoine continued driving and I pressed my face against the window as iconic landmark after iconic landmark came into view. First it was the Opéra Garnier, then the Place de la Concorde. Now we were cruising down the very busy tree-lined Champs-Élysées – something I’d seen in tourist guides and on TV countless times.
Antoine said that he wouldn’t normally take this route because of the traffic, but knew that guests were always keen to get a glimpse of the most famous locations.
As we headed towards the stunning Arc de Triomphe, I asked if I’d get a view of the Eiffel Tower. He explained that it was mainly blocked by the buildings, but said that he’d drive down a nearby road to give me a glimpse.
When I spotted the Eiffel Tower in the distance, I gasped.
I’d always wanted to see it in real life. Even from afar, the grand iron structure looked so much bigger than I’d imagined. I couldn’t wait to visit it properly. I felt like the heroine in my favourite TV show,Emily in Paris, when she first arrived in the city. Everything looked so amazing.
As we pulled up outside a grand limestone building, flanked by doormen dressed in the same smart red and blue branded uniforms I’d seen online, my eyes widened.
But that was nothing compared to the way my pupils popped when I stepped through the huge glass doors with intricate black and gold wrought-iron details into the incredible hotel reception.
My head swivelled from left to right, then right to left as I took in the sight of the polished white marble floors, impossibly high ceiling which had a massive modern chandelier hanging from it, the thick marble columns and the majestic white marble staircase which wouldn’t look out of place in a French palace.
The scent of the elegant floral arrangement on a grand stone table wafted around me and I looked on in awe as a woman dressed in a chic white minidress clutching a designer handbag that probably cost more than I earned in six months floated past me and out through the hotel doors.
This place wasfancy.
I was so busy taking in the grandness of the reception and the bougie guests that it took me several seconds to realise a man was calling my name.
‘Madame Hall?’
‘Sorry!’ I smiled. ‘I was miles away. Yes, that’s me! This place is seriously impressive. Like,wow!’
‘I am glad that you like it. Welcome to the Love Hotel, Paris. My name is Claude and I will be the person helping to bring you and your match together.’
‘You’re my Love Alchemist, right?’ I said.
‘Oui.’ He nodded. ‘Our job titles here are a little unconventional so I always like to explain what I do in plain English first. I have never met a guest who mentioned the job title before I did!’
‘I like to do my research,’ I said. ‘Anyway, it’s lovely to meet you, Claude, or should I say:enchantée?’
