It's Me, Sara Louise

{The LPV: November 2009}

Today’s the day! After three and a half weeks of living life as a pseudo-single girl; total remote control domination, easy peasy bed making (while I barely move during my sleep, Gregory twists and turns like a whirling dervish wrapped inside a tornado) and Lifetime Movie Network marathons, I am being reunited with Gregory and Fifty this afternoon. As I type this, Gregory and Fifty are somewhere in the air between Paris and Houston.

Since I’ve been filling you in on tidbits of what I’ve been up to lately, I thought I’d tell you about what Gregory has been doing since we said goodbye in Paris twenty-six days ago.

First, he spent a few days at Brother-in-Law’s where La Petite chased Fifty around trying to turn him into her tutu-wearing, Princess tea partner. Oh, and she renamed him Titi. I think the two of them got out of there in the nick of time.

Next up was a blissful week in Toulon with The Londons (on second thought, I’m not entirely sure how blissful it was for Mrs. London). Gregory and Mr. London gardened, built a fire pit, barbecued and drank Ricard. It was basically their idea of heaven. Occasionally a photo from Mr. London would pop up on my Instagram feed of the two of them in front of an outdoor fire with glasses of pastis and hashtags like; #perfectevening #bestnightever. I’m so glad that I got out of the way so Gregory could have some quality time with his hetero-life partner.

They weren’t entirely homebodies though, they managed to make it out to a nightclub on a couple occasions and on one of those, Mr. London attempted to drop it like its hot and dropped it too hot and split his pants wide open. So naturally Gregory spent the rest of the evening trying to throw ice cubes in the hole. As you do. (Shout out to Mrs. London for keeping me in the loop.)

After a week of non-stop bromance, Gregory headed north to French Maman’s in Auvergne. He ate fois gras, beef tongue (his favorite), lots of Cantal cheese (another one of his favorites) and Bleu d’Auvergne (my favorite). On his last night there, French Nana opened a bottle of 1969 Saint-Emilion Grand Cru. Then she phoned me to tell me how sorry she was that I wasn’t there to drink it. Not cool French Nana, not cool… your uppance will come.

With the week over and his belly full, he made a quick stop at The Gypsy’s to say goodbye before returning to The LPV to tie up the last of the loose ends and to bid au revoir. The Croupier hosted a small party for him with all of the usual suspects there; laughs were had, and tears were shed. Then four days ago he returned to Toulon to finish up his final days in France with his faithful Bumder.

And that’s that. One short flight from Marseille to Paris, followed by a super long one to Houston, and Gregory, Fifty and I will all be reunited this afternoon, ready to start our new lives together in America (sh*t just got real).