It was completely out of the blue the day Mr. Big asked me if I wanted to go to Paris with him. He had a conference in London and then wanted to hop over to Paris for an extended weekend.

Ummm…YES!!!

What girl in her right mind would say no to that?! How is this even a question?!?!

Needless to say, I felt like Carrie Bradshaw in “An American Girl Part Une”. My first thoughts are, of course, about shoes. Right as I’m flashing my shoe collection through my mind, Mr. Big interrupts my thoughts and says, “take only 2 pairs of shoes”.

Whaaaaaaaat?!

“Okay, now you’re just being irrational and I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

I hear him laugh on the phone. He loves it when I’m such a girl. But he actually meant the whole shoe thing.

I don’t need this kind of pressure. I felt like Carrie. I can’t choose. I can’t play favorites! I ended up bringing 5 pairs of stilettos and wearing none.

Insert Mr. Big rolling his eyes here. I can hear him saying, “Baaaaaabe, I tooooold you”.

Anyway, the joke was on me. I got food poisoning. Figures. Poor Mr. Big is running around Paris finding me yogurt and other things to help settle my stomach. I was finally able to pull myself out of bed to take a stroll through the streets of Paris, taking in all the history, the wars, the love stories. I was even able to get a picture alone with La Joconde, which is next to impossible.

I felt like pinching myself because I couldn’t believe I was that girl. I glance over to Mr. Big and catch him looking right back at me. It’s funny how those silent moments can speak more love than words can. I instinctively tilt my head and smile. I love you. 

We walked all over the city, hand-in-hand with my ever-so-elusive Mr. Big.

xo,

Marianne