Hot guys at the Louvre

I can't help being very found of the Hugh Grant-type of man. And look- he existed for some time!


This guy has been silently watching you from the other side of the café. He slips a note on your table on his way out- it has a poem on it, but no phone number. You didn't notice him before, but now You have to go to the café again and again, to see if he is there. He's not. Who is he? What's the thing with that statue he carries? Perhaps he's just a weirdo, but suddenly you can't help daydreaming about him.


He's just a guy in your class, he's nice and serious and quite smart. Not your type. A bit of a geek (seriously- the haircut!), but he could become a good friend. You and he need to finish this team work this week, but suddenly you realize that every time your eyes meet you get all warm and fuzzy inside and you forget what you just were about to say.


He's taking such good care of his daughter every time you see them in the park, she is always well dressed and seem to be such a sweet girl and you can't help but being impressed by a father who can make braids. Is the mother dead? Did she abandon them? Is there place for a new woman in his life? He never meets your eyes, though you always try to make him see you.


You're at a party, you and that guy are sitting in a corner. You want to talk, hoping to snoggle, you want more, but he's a Guy With A Guitar. He plays song after song - at first imitating his heroes, but then he plays you a song that he's written himself, it's terrible and banal and he has his eyes closed and you realize that he is not even trying to impress you, he is just in love with the image of himself as a guy with a guitar and a girl with sparkling eyes listening to him. You excuse yourself when the song is finished, he's looking up, surprised and annoyed, you run to the kitchen for another glass of wine and someone who can rescue you.