Twice as Much as You Speak, Part I

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It would turn out to be an almost endless evening. It was, in fact, an exercise in the art of silence on my part.

Enter The Frenchman.

He is actually French Canadian, but I digress.

He sent me a message on one of the sites two weeks ago stating that he found me attractive and would like to meet.  He'd be flying in for a week-long conference; would I like to get together?

After doing my best to explain across the (slight) language barrier that I am not an escort [no disrespect intended to escorts, naturally] and receiving his reply that he understood, I agreed to meet him for coffee near his hotel.

This cafe was the scene of the first red flag.  

Upon my arrival,we greeted each other and I sat down. He already had coffee in hand, so I figured we'd make a bit of small talk, then he'd invite me up to the counter to place my order. Not so.

For the better part of an hour, he talked about everything under the sun...from his work, to his habits and his parents (lovely people, I surmised).  He asked me a grand total of one (1) question about myself during his verbal voyage. 

When the hour drew to a close, I actually had another meeting nearby, so I pulled myself away. He suggested that we get together after my dinner for coffee (again).

I couldn't help wondering: would he actually offer me a drink before launching into soliloquy next time?

I'll be back with Part Deux...