I was a little shocked when a friend called me out about last week’s blog and accused me of being hypocritical of all things. It all started Tuesday night, when my friend Sydney took me to her favorite Italian restaurant for dessert. It was around midnight but we were craving tiramisu. The restaurant was closing, but the very nice Italian guys who worked there decided they would stay open a little later for us.

Did I mention that there is something about Italian men that I like? My friend Sydney calls them light skin black men because of their confidence and swagger. Got to love it. Anyway, Sydney is chatting away as I watched the swagger of our really cute server. In addition to getting our dessert, our server was busy chatting with another Italian male friend of his. I was already distracted before the night really got started.

Sydney excused herself to go wash her hands and as soon as she left, the Italian friend came over to the table and started chatting me up, first in French, then in English. Sydney came back and gave me the look saying “Girl, he’s cute go for it.” He was okay but I was feeling our waiter. Nicola, the waiter’s friend, was determined to get my attention, and I only heard every other word because I was preoccupied with thinking of a way to include our server in the conversation.

This stopped me in my tracks. I have been in Paris for eight months and thought I did a lot of work on myself. For all of myself exploration and reflection, I still find myself going after guys that seem unavailable while doing a 50 yard dash from guys who show any signs of availability. I swear I thought I had left that baggage in New York, but now I realized that I carried it over 2,000 miles to Paris. Maybe the scenery changes, but the pattern stays the same until you really deal with it.