Editor’s Note: Today, I bring to you to a very important contributor to this site – The Drama Magnet. (You may remember her as my partner in crime from the blog introduction, the Lady Gaga to my Miley, so per say.)
Prior to moving to Paris in 2011, the The Drama Magnet resided in Los Angeles and New York City. Albeit a longstanding history of dancing side by side at Goldbar throughout all of the late 2000’s, we only became friends years later, united by a mutual quest for life’s basic necessities (decent gym, men, customer service) in a place where they cease to exist. Of Latin American origin, the Drama-Gnet has a much lower threshold to the masochism that is Paris, thus making her experiences in this glorious city far more poignant than my own.
Oh, she also has a few Master’s degrees, and the capacity to cite Hemingway.
I first fell in love with Paris when I came there with my best friend in August 2008, the summer we somehow convinced our parents to let us to philander around the South of France under the pretense of “studying abroad.” We soon discovered the Côte d’Azur to be more of a Maxim Top 100 screening than the Fitzgerald-esque adventure we had anticipated. To liquidate all competition, we decided to flee to Paris, where I managed to find the one native (and biggest Dbag) left in the city that weekend. The rest is a sad story reserved for another time. However one good thing did come out of it: my newfound, unparalleled love for his native city.
