I had a boyfriend in my early 20s who chased me all the way to Paris. I had resisted at first because we had been involved at home and it had not ended well. He had shown up at my parents’ doorstep, saying he had changed, was crazy about me and begged for my  phone number.  He began calling me and convinced me to stay on the phone with him for hours. Before I knew it, he was heading to Paris to meet up with me.

The night he arrived,  we sat  sipping kir in a most charming Paris living room with french doors open to the beautiful night air. We were alone in this home, given to me by friends, for 3 days.  It was exquisitely romantic. He turned to me excitedly, saying he had a surprise  and ran downstairs.  Within minutes,  a gorgeous sound came through those open doors, the curtains dancing to it in the breeze- a man was playing the saxophone on the street. The gesture was so tender it was heartbreaking. Suddenly, the boyfriend runs into the room with an over sized sweatshirt. This was his surprise. Not the music. The disappointment was heavy.  The sweatshirt was ugly.

Over 20 years later,  I find myself out there in the dating world again, thinking about this funny Paris disappointment. If small girls have small disappointments – will big girls, in their 40’s , have big fat disappointments?