I want to move to Montreal. Super badly.
Actually, I want to live in Paris. But I realize that is just never going to happen because of the man I have chosen to spend my life with. He lacks the necessary joi de vivre. But it's always been in the back of my mind. I'm very Parisian at heart. I understand the immediacy of pleasure and that the French are not cold - they just don't smile unless they mean it. I admire anyone who has the gall to never shave their armpits, restaurants that allow dogs inside and millions of people ignoring non-smoking signs to the point where they are merely a flippant formality. I love Paris. I want to learn how to speak French, I want to listen to Jacque Dutronc on vinyl in a giant studio apartment, overlooking Paris, with a living room full of exposed brick. A cheese cage. A cage for your cheese. Wine with every meal. I love everything about France. Everything. I especially love their honesty and their refusal to coddle obese women, calling them beautiful and cheering them on when they say they are comfortable with their bodies - when we all damn well know that we would all be a lot more comfortable with our bodies if we were French skinny.
I digress.
I thought that when I brought up the idea of moving to Montreal instead of Paris that Mike would accept this compromise and we would pack our bags and board a train over to the Canadian promised land.
Not so much.
Mike and I are so different in so many ways that it sometimes seems astonishing that we are actually a couple. But we mesh well and we love each other and it works well. But now he's jumping up and down and squashing my dreams with relish and anger. He has put his foot down. We're not moving to Montreal. And we are most definitely, absolutely, one hundred per cent NOT MOVING TO PARIS!!! But that's relationships I guess. You have to give up a little bit of what you want in life in order to be in one. And if you have somehow managed to find a person you can be with who shares all of your dreams and passions - then fuck you. Most of us don't get to have our gateau and eat it too when it comes to matters of love and marriage.
But don't get confused. I am not giving up without a fight. Today I cried for about an hour after bringing up the idea for the millionth time. And this will continue to happen until I soften his cold stoney heart and he agrees to finally take one for the team and move to Montreal with me.
Whose side are you on anyway?
