Here's the third installment of my old Xanga posts on how I ended up in France. Read the first and second posts here.
Just to put things back in perspective. FrenchGuy had been living with us for 3 months. Wednesday, my dear meddling mama talked to him. Friday, he said he loved me. Tuesday, he was going back to FrenchGuyLand.
Friday night, my brother's Boy Scout troop had a camp out, so FrenchGuy and I reluctantly said, "see you tomorrow." But around 11pm, Dad called and
said their coffee maker/car invertor plan had failed. Mom and I eagerly
took some out to them...and we sat around the campfire...and
watched the stars...and held hands...and talked...until 3am...
FrenchGuy said that he loved me, but he wasn't ready to start something serious. He wanted us
to have time to think about this and for us to be sure.
night, we had a melt-down discussion. FrenchGuy poured out his heart to
me in a very brave way. I love him for his honesty.
Yet by Sunday afternoon, FrenchGuy had decided that he was going to ask my dad's blessing ( basically to marry me. Gulp.) He didn't want to leave and not have his
intentions known. They talked for a long time but FrenchGuy came out unscathed.
After an IMAX and dinner, it was time to tell the rest of my large noisy family what was going on. When we sat down for dessert, FrenchGuy and I stood up and sang
the childrens' favorite annoying song, with a brand-new twist, "Lonely,
Jenna's NOT lonely, she HAS somebody for her own, Ooooooo!"
But FrenchGuy was still leaving in 1.5 days...how many dates could we get in before he left 5,000 miles away to FrenchGuyLand?
to be continued...