Quand est-ce que ça s’arrête

Okay, but for real – can someone please tell me why I’m like this?  I go out of my way to make sure everyone else is miserable just because I feel like shit.  I put loved ones in situations where they are guaranteed to give the “wrong” response (selon moi).  And then get mad when they do so.  It’s a lose-lose for them and a win-win for me.  Even though I’m actually the one losing.  Big time.

But I can’t help it.

Bitch sit your punk ass down and stop using the absolute most pathetic excuse in the book.  “But I can’t help it” can be directly translated to “but I don’t want to change“.  Well, after years and years and years of this behavior, I’m fed the fuck up.  I now have a boyfriend that I love, and who loves me dearly, and he doesn’t deserve a girlfriend who plays these time-wasting games.  Especially considering we’re long distance France-America.  We do not have time to waste being moody.  And then there’s my family.  My family, yo……….god they deserve so much better from me.  So much better.  Who the hell am I to walk around with a bad attitude day in and day out when all they want is my happiness?  Who the hell am I?

I have trouble letting go.  I always have.  Whether I’m leaving behind an asshole fuckboy in Paris or finishing the last episode of The Durrells in Corfu.  I just make things into such a huge ordeal.  I’m so fucking dramatic, shit!!  My boyfriend sends me a snapchat video of his colleagues and I see a girl in there.  I screenshot.  Two seconds later my boyfriend’s got a text from me with said screenshot attached asking why he was filming that girl.  WHEN I KNOW FULL WELL THAT HE LOVES ME AND I LITERALLY DO NOT FEEL THREATENED BY THIS GIRL AT ALL.  WHO IS SHE?  I LITERALLY DON’T KNOW OR CARE.  But!  I’m bored, I want attention, and I want my boyfriend to explain to me why I shouldn’t be worried and to reassure me of how much he loves me.  So I come up with this sick, fucked up way of getting that out of him.  Manipulation.  Straight up.  I’m manipulating him to tell me he loves me when he literally tells me he loves me all day every day.  And here’s the best part – I’m fully aware that I’m doing this, and I hate myself for it, and I get even more angry (with myself), but transfer the anger I have towards myself to my boyfriend.  And then I’m mad at myself for being mad at him for no reason because he’s honestly the best boyfriend I could have ever wished for and it just goes on and on and on until  we’re both silent (me from shame and him from exhaustion).   Here’s a thought – tell him this.  Acknowledge that you’re being a childish little shit, laugh about it, and move ON.

I could write for days on this subject.  But we mustn’t dwell, must we?  We can only acknowledge our mistakes and make a conscious effort to better ourselves as we move forward.  Tomorrow’s the first day of the Christmas holidays, and I intend to spend these next few weeks making lovely jubbly memories with my family that I’ll take with me to Paris when I’ve flown the nest.

Appreciate what you’ve got.  Realize how good you have it.  Because nothing is forever.


Snapshots of the last few months

IMG_4199IMG_4767518CDC09-C5EA-43D0-9394-352815B73BFA-4247-000004A3BE56875824210005IMG_5015IMG_5507IMG_5747IMG_6052IMG_6662IMG_7793IMG_7977IMG_4213IMG_6055IMG_4615Processed with VSCO with hb2 preset

Je tiens à toi

Rosie vous a envoyé un message (7)

Je t’aime mon amour ❤

Prudence, hein !!


Ecoute pas ta musique trop fort dans le métro !

Et fais attention à tes environs 🕵🏽🕵🏽🕵🏽

Ecris-moi quand t’es arrivé à la station et puis quand t’es arrivé au boulot stp

Je t’aime trop Thomas ❤



Who Knew My Heart Could Beat So Quick(ly)

The story of how I fell in love is long, complicated, and rather bizarre.  You see, “I love you” was said by both of us within two weeks of meeting each other, but the actual falling in love, on my part anyway, was a slow, confusing, and scary process.  A process that has yet to come to an end, but that has departed from the confusing and the scary and taken a turn towards the simple and the exciting.  Thomas is the most wonderful boyfriend I could ever have dreamt of, and I am so grateful that we somehow, in a world of Tinder, casual infidelity, and meaningless sex, managed to fall into each other’s laps.  The universe really does work in strange ways.

Let me give you a quick rundown of my romantic history.  I’ve loved boys my whole life, ever since I came out the womb I’ve been boy crazy.  So you can imagine my frustration at making it through middle school, high school, and my first year of university without so much as a short-lived fling.  My second year of university…well that was the year my whole life changed.  Sounds dramatic, I’m aware, but it’s the truth.  This was the year I spent studying abroad in Paris at La Sorbonne.  This was my year of firsts.  First tattoo.  First time having sex.  First time drinking until I vomited.  First time smoking a cigarette.  First time smoking weed.  First time going to a rave.  The list goes on and on, but this post isn’t about any of that stuff.  Basically all you need to know is that as soon as I set foot in Paris, the boys began to flock to me like fuckboys to the DMs of a girl who’s just posted a revealing selfie on Instagram.  That’s more like it!, I thought to myself.  Finally guys are giving me the attention I’ve been deserving all these years!

Fast forward to the end of my year in Paris and you’ll see a twice-heartbroken Rosie believing she was in love with a boy who was still in love with his ex-girlfriend.  I so desperately wanted to make him love me, because if I did this, that would mean I had won against his ex.  That would mean I was worthy of a boy’s love.  I even went as far as to tell him that I loved him, praying that he would say it back.  That “I love you” never came.  Unless, of course, you count that drunken night when he said “Je t’aime, Rosie”, but the next day when I asked him for clarification, he made it clear that he didn’t actually mean it.

So back to America I went to continue with school.  Still no luck in the boy department.  Within the year, I was back in Paris for an internship at the United States Embassy.  A little older, but not necessarily wiser, I let my friend convince me to join Tinder, and then the fun began.  Spoiler alert: it was not fun at all.  These four months were my hoe months.  After all the failed dates and weird clingy guys, I was left with: one guy who I saw more or less regularly (not a relationship, it was just that we didn’t hate each other so why not hang out from time to time?) and one fuckboy who, I hate to admit, had really charmed me.  French boys’ll do that to ya.

After this last one showed his true colors, I spent a couple weeks heartbroken once again, crying to my friend Mélissa about how badly I wanted a boyfriend, how badly I wished someone would fall in love with me.  Being the typically French girl that she is, she logically pointed out that Tinder is the last place I would find what I was looking for, and that dating/seeing multiple guys at once is not how you find a serious relationship.  That bitch was right, and I knew it too.

A few weeks before returning to America, the heartbreak had, for the most part, subsided.  Or maybe I had just gotten good at pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, only to be brought out at a later date along with three packs of Oreos, two boxes of tissues, and a bag of Hot Cheetos.  Either way, I was feeling a lot better.  I was hanging out with friends, posting videos on YouTube, speaking lots of French, etc.

One afternoon, I headed over to Micky’s Deli in Le Marais on rue des Rosiers.  With my burger, fries, and iced tea in hand, I made my way over to my favorite spot in all of Paris: Hôtel de Ville.  I sat down along the fountains near the Seine, facing the Mairie de Paris, and started wolfing down my lunch.  Paris is too beautiful.  I am never quite able to believe my eyes at just how magnificent the city is.  As I sat and people-watched, I saw kids jumping with their arms outstretched trying to pop the gigantic bubbles that someone always seems to be making there, I saw a group of Parisian girls smoking and gossiping amongst themselves, and I saw a boy dressed in all black who came and sat down by the fountains where I was, but further along, towards the other end.  Damnnn it’s like 80 degrees!!  How the hell is this bitch gonna wear black jeans AND a black shirt right now!  He didn’t seem bothered at all by the heat, and he took out his book and started to read.  I kept looking over at him, wondering how the hell he wasn’t DEAD under all that black.  Every time I looked over at him he always seemed to be looking everywhere but his book.  That’d be me.  Too distracted by the beauty of the Parisian architecture.  I focused back on my meal and took a moment to appreciate how great my life was at that moment, but then after a couple seconds of that, a little voice in my head yelled “SNAPS OR IT DIDN’T HAPPEN!!!!”  So I tried to arrange what was left of my burger and fries in such a way that would result in a bomb snap of my food with Hôtel de Ville in the background that I could post to my Snap Story.

“Salut ! T’es ‘whereisrosie’ d’Instagram ?”

It was the boy in all black.  I gasped cause this bitch almost made me shit myself.  I didn’t even see him walk up to me!  Too focused on the frites.

Another spoiler alert: Thomas is the boy in all black 🙂

Little did I know that I had just met the love of my life.

Ten days later I went back to America.  Fall semester started up, but Thomas and I remained in contact every. single. day.  We hadn’t even planned on doing so.  It just came naturally.  We both wanted news of what was going on in the other’s life.  At this point, even though the “I love you” had been said by both of us, we both understood that we were not in a committed relationship and that we were both free to see other people if we wished.  At the start of the semester, I crossed paths with yet another fuckboy.  He dumped me out of nowhere after three weeks.  He doesn’t deserve any more of an explanation than that.

Those of you who’ve made it this far may be asking yourselves, “Why did you see someone else if you had Thomas?”  Well my friends, my response is simply this:  I didn’t have Thomas.  As we had made clear to each other at the end of the summer, I had no claim over him, nor he over me.

And I still had some hoe left in me.  Okay, I’m partly joking when I say that, but it is somewhat true.  As I mentioned earlier, attention from guys was something I craved for a long time, and something that I had only been given starting about two years ago.  Maybe I hadn’t had my fill of it yet?  But then why was I wishing desperately to have a serious boyfriend all summer instead of being happy with the Tinder hits and misses?  Surely I would be happier with attention from many guys as opposed to one?  I still am unable to answer these questions, and I don’t know if I ever will be able to answer them.  Maybe I was just young and dumb.  Maybe I needed to mature a bit more.  Fuck knows.

What I do know is this:  Thomas’s attention and love are worth the attention of all other men in this world, and more.  I have never felt more secure, more at ease, more myself than I do with Thomas.  When I tell Thomas I love him, it’s because I love him, not because I’m trying to manipulate him.  I love him to bits.  I couldn’t be prouder to call him my boyfriend.  He truly is my better half.

While it may have been a bumpy road to get to Tuesday, January 12, 2016, we got there.  Together.  And I’ll admit, the road after was bumpy as well – long distance relationships are not known for being easy and fun lol.  Time difference, homework, fatigue, nagging parents, drama with friends, missed calls…all the bad stuff – it’s all worth it.  If Thomas and I are together, then it’s all been worth it.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love you.  I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

Happy anniversary, mon amour.  C’est que le début pour nous.


Des histoires à raconter

COUCOU !!!! Ouais je sais, ça fait un bail…mais je suis revenue, et avec des nouvelles histoires à raconter.  Alors là, je suis en train de finir mon tout dernier semestre à la fac, enfin, pour undergrad.  La remise de diplômes, c’est en décembre, et Thomas vient aux États-Unis pour y assister.  C’est qui Thomas ? Bahhh, c’est mon mec ça 🙂  Fini les fuck boys ! Fini le heartbreak ! J’embarque sur une nouvelle aventure: l’amour, pur et vrai.

Je vous expliquerai tout dans un autre poste, mais pour l’instant, voici quelques photos de cet été à Paris (et ailleurs).


Releve 100%


Releve 100%


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Releve 100%




Je t’ai rien envoyé.

Tu pleurais.  Le jour où on s’est dit au revoir, tu pleurais.  Mais c’était plutôt un adieu, non ?  Moi j’ai rien remarqué sur le pont là.  La seule pensée que j’avais dans la tête c’était “C’est bon, il pleure comme moi.”  Parce que si tu pleures, je vaux quelque chose de sérieux.  Toute notre histoire, c’était vraiment quelque chose de special.  La validation dont j’avais besoin était là dans tes larmes.  Putain, mon coeur, il ne s’est jamais senti autant d’émotion, et surtout pas pour un mec.  Mais toi…

Mais toi.

Je t’ai rien envoyé, ma Rosie.

Le lendemain, t’es mort.  Et après neuf mois, je me suis enfin permis de l’accepter.  Dès que je suis partie, je savais.  J’ai juste compris trop tard…

Oh, petit cœur

Souviens-toi de la ville,

De la tour, du vin

Oh petit cœur, c’est pas la fin.


Il n’est plus là pour prendre ta main

Tant mieux pour toi

Ça va aller, tu verras.


Il y aura un jour

Je te promets, il va arriver.

Un jour plein de joie, plein d’amour, et ça va rester.


Embrasse la tristesse

Et ton immense chagrin

Mais oh petit cœur, c’est pas la fin.