In Paris, society people unironically dress for dinner, go to cocktail parties (where the hostess has an obvious drinking problem), dine with Catholic Bishops, industrialists, politicians and occasional celebrities (usually for charity) in places dripping with atmosphere.

I met this famous actor once (July 2019, pre-covid, I was 15), at one of these summer parties in Paris. He was probably in his early forties (an impression, I didn’t look it up). Shall we wax poetic?

It was sunset - almost 10PM in Paris.
The last rose-blush of sunset was in the west.
I was leaning on the wrought iron balustrade,
of a 4th floor terrace, in the center of the city proper.

The Seine still shimmered, with diaphanous emerald flecks,
and the air was heady with the perfume of jasmine and Nuxe oil.
Behind me, beyond the French doors and filigreed silk drapes
that fluttered like angel wings, a cocktail party was happening.

I could hear the tinkling of glass, laughter and conversation.
A couple, across the way, were wrapped together as if for warmth
and they communicated in the language of lingering touch and gazes
that delved and explored. I smiled, embarrassed, and looked away.

Ok, snap out of it.

He came out on the terrace alone, as if he was looking for a breath of air and stopped at the railing about three feet away from me. After a minute, he turned, as if I’d suddenly appeared, and introduced himself.
When we shook hands, his felt like silk.

Anyway, we’d chatted for under a minute - I was jabbering about how I’d loved the Bourne movies - I was trying to sound interesting - when he leaned in and whispered, “What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

I was flabbergasted and I think I looked around to see if he was talking to me. Sometimes life offers simple choices. I grimaced, shook my head ‘no,’ and at first, I backed away, then I turned and hustled back to the party.
I think he chuckled. I saw him some time later, chatting up a model-looking woman.

I told Charles about it after the party and he said, “Huh - No kidding?” Then he shrugged and said, “Hollywood.”

This isn’t some sobbing “me too’ story. I wasn’t traumatized. It’s a tale of entitled male tomfoolery. Maybe I looked older in a certain light? A humorous ‘growing up’ story I get to share with friends - and now with all 8 of my readers.
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Songs for this:
Hurricane Waters by Citizen Cope
Beautiful Trash by Lanu & Meg Washington
Quero Te a Sambar by Tape Five

Right from the moment
Did I clap my eyes upon you
In the movie "Jagame Thanthiram"
Felt, did I
That, was there something special about you

Lies in you, a burning intensity
Which can reduce your enemies to dust
With the same frightening ease
Did the West Indies dominate cricket
Many a decade ago

Not a big role did you play in "PS1"
Or for that matter, "PS2"
However, come when your scenes did
So enraptured were we
Unable, were we
To take our eyes off you
Never had anyone played the role of "Poonguzhali"
With such simple elegance
Combined with wit and humour
Of the highest order

However, "Gatta Kusthi" was it
Where came you, into your own
Transitioning from a fiery wrestler
Into a traditional housewife
And back
With remarkable ease
The scene where you single-handedly took on those armed goons
And beat them to a pulp
As though it were child's play
Will remain etched in my mind forever
Seriously did I think
Hath arrived, a new superstar

Truly versatile, art thou
Thus did "Archana 31 Not out" prove
Where played you, the role of a teacher
Struggling to discipline a class full of troublemakers
And at the same time, facing a future full of uncertainties
Due to ongoing layoffs
Not to mention, facing rejection after rejection
When it cometh to marriage proposals
Quite the emotional rollercoaster did it turn out to be
And truly did you own the character
Rooting for "Archana", was I throughout
And when came the ******
Truly inspirational, was your speech
Showed us all, did you
The importance of taking our life in our own hands

Blessed with beauty, art thou
However, it stops not there
An exceptionally skilled actress are you
And a humble and down-to-earth person
Who, nevertheless, is afraid not
To speak her mind, no matter what
May you continue rocking and inspiring young artists
And shall the Lord bless you
With all the love, happiness, peace and prosperity in the world
Amen!

Your smile is like a drop of honey
Your laugh is like a Resurrection Stone
Because it can bring people back from the dead
Your voice is like one of the symphonies composed by Beethoven
If looks could ****
I would probably be dead by now
If I were to make eye contact with you, that is!
Hey, I was just kidding!!
But yes, your glare is so intense
That it can even force Lord Voldemort
To fall at your feet
And beg for mercy
Thus giving him a taste of his own medicine!!!
Your expressions keep changing
Like the colours of a chameleon
If someone were to wake you up
In the middle of the night
And force you to act
You would do it as naturally
As flying comes to Harry Potter
Yet, in spite of all the fame and glamour in your life
You are as humble as Michael Faraday
With a heart as pure as that of Goddess Sita
Again just kidding, you are as human as I am
Only infinitely more beautiful
From the outside as well as from the inside
And I am extremely thankful to you
Not only for your movies
But also for inspiring me to write better poetry
In a way that even William Wordsworth wouldn't have been able to pull off!!!

I apologize for my offensive tweet. I know that my words caused real harm, and for the next two weeks I will be spending time in reflection, meditation, and  healing yoga at my Colorado ranch. I am also donating $100,000 to Black Marxists Anonymous.

I humbly ask forgiveness for the insensitive remarks that I made on my friend’s 1985 middle school yearbook page when I was 13. I know that my words caused real harm. There is no excuse for my poor judgment, and although my supporters mean well by pointing out that I was an adolescent, I do not agree that I should not be held to the same standards as a contemporary adult. I have spent time with my pastor examining my deep sinful nature.

I regret my costume at the Met Gala. I know that cultural appropriation causes real harm, and for a white woman to wear a dress adorned with feathers is an insult to Native Americans. I have auctioned off all of my turquoise jewelry and donated the proceeds to a Diversity, Equity and Inclusion Committee studying ways to improve BIPOC representation on the Met Gala planning committee. I have engaged a Native shaman to guide me to a path of understanding via guided Ayahuasca use.  

I take full responsibility for standing next to Ned, my former best friend, in the photograph that has recently emerged of us at a friend’s wedding last year. Ned’s inexcusable remark on Tuesday that “All lives matter” is deeply offensive to me and today I join the diverse community that is boycotting his performances. I am ashamed that I ever called this person my friend.  

I regret ever working with J.K. Rowling. She is a transphobic hatemonger who deserves our scorn and contempt. I realize that she will continue to espouse her bigoted views, because her fans do not care, Harry Potter lives forever, and she’s a billionaire who probably lives in a castle. But I will continue to post my outrage on my Facebook page so that…anyway, Rowling *****!

I grew up on heroes old and new
Thinking there was no wrong they could do
But get rid of rose glasses and they're the worst
And I woke up to a clergy that turned. out to be cursed
Now I can't trust people I see
On the internet or TV
Because half of my childhood celebrities
Turned out to be pedos, grifters, and Nazis

Some times you have to let your heroes die
Give a wave and a nod goodbye
Send them off with a ******* up
And hope next time you have better luck

Can't trust the storytellers that made your fantasies
They want you and queers like you deceased
Can't play pretend in a superheroes game
When all the directors fund your personal bane
I wouldn't trust the beliefs that raised me
Because I've grown old enough to peek and see
That its foundations are corrupted by empire
One more genocide and I'll set the **** pulpit on fire

Some times you have to let your heroes die
Give a wave and a nod goodbye
Push them away from who you see
And rethink all those memories

I once trusted some political heads
Thinking they had good interests in their stead
But red or blue they all bomb and starve and censor
Now I have to try to get my own beliefs and center
I blindly trusted the medical process
Until I saw prejudice and the reproducibility crisis
I blindly followed the worship of success and riches
Until I saw the dead that world left in the ditches

Some times you have to let your heroes die
Give a wave and a nod goodbye
Shoot them yourself if that's what you need
Because how else can you move on and succeed

History was taught to me in one way
Every account matching up to the day
But I looked back and saw a library
Of stories the classroom never did see
The people who raised me said they were saints
And that's the picture their friends all paint
But get home at night and you'll find out
What the kids don't know to talk about

Some times you have to let your heroes die
Give a wave and a nod goodbye
Never look back for a second glance
Don't give the ******* another chance

Some times you have to let your heroes die
Give a wave and a nod goodbye
Because if power corrupts and they're infested
Don't reminisce long enough to get invested

Some times you have to let your heroes die
Give a wave and a nod goodbye
Throw down your celebrities and your idols
Be your own hero and disregard titles

The light bright and lime,
It was there but dull.
You found the chime,
And found your own light full.

Shining brightest among the best,
In spirit, I must confess.
Known far and wide,
To be welcomed with pride.

Telling stories, memories,
To pass, what I call, inspiration.
Tales to bring back humanities,
In times of such separations.

Keep singing your heartfelt songs,
And giving love deserved.
Hope will bring those bonds,
Your time is being well served.