To kiss or not to kiss... that was my question. Part of the dream of living in Paris and learning French is having a rendezvous with a French man who sweeps me off my feet. I know it’s a little Cinderella-ish, but like most girls I grew up reading fairy tales. Needless to say, to date I haven’t found any French men making me do a double take. My friends have told me in the past that I am too picky, but... whatever—fantasies are all about perfection, right?

So, I was a little surprised when I bumped into this French guy that I met on the Seine River back in July at a friend’s birthday party. Ironically, he had given me his number, but I never called. I know—how am I ever supposed to meet the French man of my dreams if I don’t go out on dates? Well, you know what they say... maybe the second time is the charm. He was a little more forward this time around, and the moment felt a little less random.

It’s funny because this guy—we shall call him “Pierre”—was a little more forward this time around. We chatted a little, then he asked me in English if he could call me. At the end of the night he made a real player move, offering to drive me home on his motorcycle. This was huge because the Métro in Paris closes around 1 a.m. on the weekends. Yes, New Yorkers, no 24-hour service here! Catching taxis is not an option... on my new student budget.

Now it’s 2:30 a.m., I’m on the back of his motorcycle, and we are zipping down the autoroute. Despite the fact that I was not initially attracted to him, there was something very sexy about Paris at night—the warm weather, the beautiful city, and this man speaking to me in French about the city he adores. I must admit that I got caught up in the moment. He leaned in for a kiss... and I made a slight turn of my head so that it landed on my cheek.