As we walked back to mine, I decided to ask him.
"Was I being assessed back there? Being judged?"
"What do you mean?" said Skaterboy.
"Well, I felt like Fantasia Burrito waiting for Randy Jackson to tell her that she's 'da bomb', you know?"
He laughed, as he does when he has no idea of what I'm talking about. I guess translating 'da bomb' into French didn't help.
"Well, if this is going somewhere" he said, "it's important that you get along with my friends..."
And that's when I slammed on the mental brakes. I screeched to a halt.
"If this is going somewhere?" I said.
"Well, you know, I like my boyfriends to get along with my friends."
While the idea of boyfriends seemed quite nice as we were walking home, hand in hand, through a balmy Paris evening, the reality hit once we got back to my place.
As we were getting down to business, I couldn't stop thinking about the Florida Boy. I'd missed his call while I was at dinner with Skaterboy. Given a choice between being where I was - in bed, banging the brains out of the hot frenchman - or returning FB's call, I knew that I wanted to be on the phone.
So, as I headed off to work this morning, leaving Skaterboy dozing in my bed, I realised that I had to sort this out. I had to stop this guy from thinking we were anything more than friends that fuck.
But, to be honest, I'm not even sure about the friends that fuck thing anymore. If I'm thinking of FB while I'm in bed with someone else, if I'm wishing it was him, if it's his face that I want to be seeing next to me, then surely this is telling me something.
As my DumbAss Yank friend would say, I'm a smitten kitten.
Oh boy. This should be a great moment.
So why do I feel scared?