I was in the métro in Paris on a carefree Friday afternoon so many, many months ago, and I’ll never forget it.

It was one of those “ugly days” that I was having. My hair was poofy (which made me look fat), I was wearing my glasses (which made me look fat) and I was wearing these jeans (which made me look really fat). Even if I had been well-dressed, nobody would have noticed. The métro was so packed that people were holding onto each other to keep from falling when the train moved. As soon as a seat opened up, I ran for it. I collapsed in a heap (which also made me look fat), and sitting directly opposite of me was, hands down, the most beautiful guy I had ever seen. All I can tell you is he had midnight hair and star shine eyes. There we were, vis-à-vis, and he was tapping his pen on his red notebook to the beat of whatever was on his iPod. He wore a blue and white striped dress shirt with black pants and a pair of refined leather shoes.

When we made eye contact, I spazzed, but he told me later on that I winked at him, which sparked his interest. He took out his ear phones and asked, “Where are you from?” We started conversing, and when we got to the Musée du Louvre métro stop, he got up, held out his hand to me and said, “This is my stop. Care to look at some French art avec moi?” I smiled, and took his hand – and the best part was he never let go of me, the whole time we were together. We saw the “Mona Lisa” and the Michelangelos. Then we sat down at the petit bistro inside the Louvre where we shared a crepe, sipped on cafés and discussed global politics. He opened his notebook, looked at me and said, “I want to draw how beautiful today has been.” I melted to the floor! I took the pen from him and wrote him a love poem in his lovely red notebook.

In verité, back on the métro I had lacked the courage and confidence to be flirtatious and sensuous. Every time we made eye contact, I quickly shifted my gaze to the floor. I stared as those black shoes walk toward, and then past the train doors at the Musée du Louvre without saying a single word to him. I never saw that beautiful man again. Yves Saint Laurent said, “The most beautiful makeup for a woman is passion.” What I lacked that day wasn’t rouge for my lips. I hope that you, whoever you may be, will learn from this story and be able to do today what I could not that Friday – Carpe diem!

As for this little tale, there is some truth in that I really did write a poem somewhere. Here’s to you, mon homme mysterieux, wherever you are.