Foreign Affairs Vol. 3 (Part I) - Eiffel For Him

One night in Paris. One promise in Greek.

June was a hectic month. I spent the first half back in Nashville with my family, soaking up as much quality time as I could before heading off on my own little European tour — London, Paris, and Nice — on the long route back to Greece.

London was all sightseeing and catching up with old friends. The city was electric, and it was sunny every single day I was there (coincidence? I think not). One of my girlfriends encouraged me to hop on the dating apps while traveling — just to see who I could meet.

Now, I don’t typically do Tinder. I’m a Hinge girl when I do apps at all. But something about the spontaneity of this trip made me think: Why not? I gave my profile a refresh, set the radius wide, and started swiping.

swipe—swipe—swipe

Until someone caught my eye.

Dark indie mullet. Intense eyes. Captivating features.

His bio: London. Paris. Amsterdam. Istanbul. Athens.

Swipe right.
Instant match.

“So funny story — I’m in London now. I go to Paris the same day you do… and I live in Athens.”

“What?? No way. So I can take you on a date in three different countries?”

We started talking and quickly realized how much we had in common. We both work in business strategy, both fiercely loyal to terrible football teams, both in love with travel and adventure but also the kind of people who romanticize a slow day and a glass of wine.

It was easy. So easy, in fact, that we decided to meet up.

Honestly? I expected a whirlwind fling. A few steamy makeout sessions in iconic locations, and then we'd go our separate ways once he flew back to the States. He’d be a fond memory that faded as time went on… and I was okay with that.

But the way he was showing up — the consistency, the softness, the presence — caught me off guard.

We didn’t manage to meet in London, but we both landed in Paris the same night and agreed to grab a drink once we were settled. He came to my side of town, and oh my God… he was stunning.

Think: Zac Efron’s bone structure meets Benson Boone’s entire vibe. Chef’s kiss.

And the way he looked at me — like I was the Mediterranean night sky. I was spiraling immediately.

The first few minutes felt surreal. We had messaged so much in the days leading up, but standing in front of him in a brand-new city, both of us seeing Paris for the first time… it took a moment to catch up to the magic.

But once we did? It was perfect.

We stayed out until six in the morning. We basically played 20 Questions with makeout breaks in between. It was intense. It was a lot. But it didn’t feel forced. It felt natural.

He had to leave early to meet up with his brother, and I went back for a nap. We made loose plans to meet again later that night for a sunset stroll by the Seine, and then we’d see each other again in Athens.

I thought that might be it — a few hot hours with an exciting stranger in the most romantic city on Earth. A one-night movie scene.

Until I woke up to this:

“I had so much fun. Unforgettable first night in Paris. Enjoy your first full day here!! I can’t wait to see you again later 😘”

I set off for the Louvre, wandered past the Eiffel Tower, did all the sightseeing things. But honestly? He was the #1 item on my Paris itinerary.

Messages I received throughout the day:

“Is it normal to miss someone you met less than 24 hours ago? I’m sorry if that’s too much — I’ve just never had anyone make me feel this way before.”

“Hiiiiii I get to see your face in less than 4 hours.”

“I’m so happy you live in Athens. I was just telling my brother — if I only got to see her this one time in Paris, I’d be devastated. I need as much time as possible with this girl.”

Now… I’ll be honest. The emotional intensity lit up every “maybe this is love bombing” sensor in my head. But I’ve been trying to lean into the moment more. And in that moment, he was showing up with more presence and consistency than anyone I’ve met in the past year. So I let him.

We met at the Pont Neuf metro station that evening for our stroll. And when I say he looked good… linen shirt open over a white tank, aviators, sneakers that told me he got it. I was in trouble.

He greeted me with a kiss and said I looked like a dream.

We held hands and walked along the river, people-watching, laughing, lingering.

At one point, the sun hit his face just right, and I said, “Give me your phone.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Trust me.”

I snapped a few photos of him against the golden light. I just wanted him to have a memory of this — of me, of us, in this moment.

“You just looked too good not to take a picture.”

He blushed. Later, he told me how much that meant to him — that he’d always struggled with his appearance in his twenties, and had worked hard the past few years to feel good in his body and style again.

“That moment… it really healed something in me. I always hated taking pictures of myself. But seeing me through your eyes — thank you.”

It was soft. It was safe. It was sacred.

Eventually, he had to meet back up with his brother. We lingered by the railing near the twinkling Eiffel Tower lights, not quite ready to say goodbye.

“So... I guess I’ll see you in Athens?” he said, running his thumb across my hand.

I smiled while he leaned in for a kiss.

“Τα λέμε στην Αθήνα, καρδιά μου,” I whispered —
See you in Athens, my heart.

He paused for a second, clearly caught off guard, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Wait… you just said that in Greek?”

I nodded. “Mhm.”

He looked at me like I had just cracked open a whole new layer of magic. Like I’d handed him the softest secret of the night.

He smiled so softly I nearly melted right there. “That was beautiful.”

And then he kissed me like it meant something.

After that, he stayed in constant contact. As he traveled through new cities, he sent photos and voice notes. Little updates about what he was seeing, how much he missed me, how he couldn’t wait for Athens.

“The sights, the food, the culture… it’ll all still be here. There’s only one you.”

And I believed him.

---

Foreign Affairs: Eiffel For Him
Part I of a story I didn’t know I’d be writing.

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