On the Art of Living, Cont.

I've been contemplating New Year's Eve in Paris, and am still very much on the fence. I did knock off work an hour early today to shop for lingerie and then stop by Maison du Chocolat for a truffle, so that does tell you where my head's at, at the moment. While I was peering into the cases at the latter, a friend wrote: There's an English man in the store, and I understand your attraction to them... how wonderfully bold, manly and attractive they are. I do like men of the British Isles, although my taste is not exactly that. My kind of man is well-dressed, reserved, and emboldened by a private fire that burns only for me. No specific accent required.