Wassim

Wassim

Wassim was the very first boy that hit on me in Paris. It happened at Canal Saint Martin in front of Pont Éphémère. I was with my American friends from cite U. I was sitting in between a few people when one of my friends left, leaving my left side open.

This is when Wassim fell in love.

He and a friend cat-called me until I looked over. I was not interested, my need for adventure and romance was already satiated thanks to my travels. I also don't normally respond to hisses and kissy noises.

Despite my disinterest, Wassim moved closer until he was sitting on my left, legs spread open. He spoke Italian and Arabic, while I spoke primarily English and some broken French. I knew that it would not work due to communication problems. Although we could not talk to each other and had a translator (his little buddy) Wassim told me that he wanted to marry me. When he finally learned my name, he wrote it in a notebook. With little hearts all around.

He had really nice penmanship so I decided to give him my number.

I could not understand a word of what he was saying when he called me. I gave up after one or two tries. I am not a fan of telephone conversations even in English. This was two or three months after arriving in France and I was definitely not an expert in French, especially broken French with a heavy accent (Wassim's little buddy I'm presuming).

Anyways I stopped picking up my phone and I stopped responding to the text messages. I had seen Wassim one more time after the night on the river. He had given me his watch and drew some more hearts on my school notebook.

I am pretty sure that he wanted to marry me. This he knew how to say in English, more or less.

He left a few unintelligible messages on my cell phone, I think he may have been drunk. I had no idea how to communicate with this boy and I was not very attracted to him anyways. I was not sure how to say this in French or Italian, so I took the "cold shoulder" route.

The phone calls didn't stop, even after a week. I had a male friend pick up a few times but this did not work either. Finally, I sent a few text messages saying that I was not interested, in order to be assertive about the situation.

And one night, I dropped my phone into the Seine marking the end of Wassim. Although towards the end things turned a little sour, I will always remember him as the very first boy who asked for my hand in marriage.