the bunny that bugs me

Within the space of thirty minutes I'd been asked for a cigarette twice, for a light once, directions three times and one girl asked if she could use my mobile phone. Yep, this is what happens when you're standing on the street corner waiting in Paris.

I don't know what it is with the French but you know what? If you smoke, bring cigarettes. Bring a lighter. Be more organised. Like the scandinavians.

That said, I was waiting and waiting and waiting outside this damn metro station because my very organised and never late scandinavian princess friend - let's call her Miss Norway (everybody does) - was late. LATE! For the first time ever, Miss Norway was late.

She's never late.

But she had an excuse. She'd been performing ritual fellatio on her very lovely husband just before leaving the house and he'd ruined her hair. So a return trip to the bathroom was needed in order to return her do to the seventies disco joy that is her pride and joy.

So she turned up and we headed off to the birthday party of our friend, The Lapin. We call him The Lapin because of his obsession with small cuddly boys (which we call rabbits in French - don't ask me why). So he's obsessed with lapins, so we call him The Lapin. Jeez we're hilarious.

Anyway, the Lapin, despite his preference for the small and cuddly boys, has a thing for me. And it's kind of over the top and a bit embarrassing.

"So, you and your husband?" he asked me at the party. "You know, when it's over with him, me and you - we're let's go ding ding fuck fuck marry".

Yes, this is actually what he said. In a thick thick french accent. ye gods.

But the thing is, The Lapin is a new gay. At the tender age of 35 he's finally come out - to himself, to his family, to his friends, to the world. And now he's like a child in a sweetshop. Wants to touch everything, taste everything. It's exhausting.

I met him in a bar a while back and we've become good friends really. However, I have an issue with him and my friends. Problem is, he sees them as some kind of gay shooting range. Where he can work on his skills before heading out into the real world.

Thing is, he's handsome and he's sexy. And he goes for it. He's very seductive, charming and not afraid of the killer question. My friends love him. A bit too much.

In the last three months, I've introduced him to a dozen or so friends of mine - and he's slept with at least ten of them.

But every time he rings me afterwards and says "but it wasn't you, you know. Me and you - basta!" God help me.

Anyway, last night he left with a German friend of Miss Norway. Neither of them spoke the other one's language but Lapin had been admiring the German's biceps all night (I actually caught him licking the poor Frankfurter's arm at one point) and I think they'd worked out what each was after.

Seeing them leave last night, Miss Norway turned to me.

"Fucking fantastic" she said.

"What's that?"

"He's been through your lot like a dose of salts, now he's starting on my friends!"

There's only one thing for it. We need to find more friends.

As Miss Norway says - "It's like feeding a Rottweiler - you keep them full up so that they don't attack you...."