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For better or worse, there’s a bit of Henry Ford in me, an uncompromising spirit in the compromises I make. His customers could have any color car they wanted, as long as it was black. Likewise my girlfriend and I could vacation anywhere, I stubbornly told her, as long as it was a city with exciting restaurants.
I’m not only stubborn but also rather stupid for objecting initially when she proposed Paris. Jaded by meals too staid and too expensive there in the past, I thought it a boring choice. Nothing, restaurant-wise, seemed to be moving there. Nothing seemed to be happening.
But truth be told, I had not checked in on Paris in over two years. I was increasingly emotionally distant. Our relationship had deteriorated, beaten down by my illicit flings with other cities, one-night stands with far-flung restaurants I might now call my favorites.
Saturne helped us hug and make up. Continue reading