Toyboy Weekend In Paris
Jun 18th, 2008 by Eats Wombats
The sophisticated and glamorous older woman who keeps me left the Sunday Times colour supplement on my pillow recently, open at this article: Women who date younger men.
The story, about toyboywarehouse.com and the growing trend for empowered women these days to date younger men, looked more seductive on glossy paper with nice photographs. Of course it did.
Very funny!
I said, before promptly booking a weekend in Paris.
I will whisk her away on the Eurostar on Friday morning to a very nice hotel on the Rue de Rivoli and we’ll drink some fine wine, visit some galleries and, if she has any interest in… shoes?, her wish will be my command. After all, diamonds would cost a lot more and her shoe cupboard isn’t anything like that of Imelda Marcos.
This toyboy trend is getting lots of publicity here lately.
See Young men stay home as women go in search of a toyboy and Confessions of an English Gigolo, for example.
Of course, a weekend in Paris has been on the cards for a while. Now that I’m nominally 3/4 of the way through my studies and as it’s not the rainy season in London, it’s time.
Going by train is a doddle as we live so close to the station. They’re keen for us to know that it’s a carbon neutral trip. I considered going first class, for about 5 seconds, but decided on a better hotel instead.
What else can I do?
A foot massage?
Perhaps a little champagne on the journey would amuse her?
And some Lindt chocolate.
I’m also arranging dinner one evening with two antipodean friends who happen to be in town and whom we haven’t seen for years and years. This will be a surprise. She has no idea.
What else can I do?
Lay on a toyboy, as it were?
But seriously, I don’t know whether the Quai d’Orsay is on your gallery list, but it should be. And, for me, the water lilies room at the Orangerie is unmissable. That and a good couscous and you’re all set.