Seduction

I am not departing this world of strange guttural sounds and high pitched female whining.

Firstly, the odor of stinky cheese constantly permeates from my wine-clogged pores and I wouldn't want to offend innocent passengers by that, would I?

Secondly, because I've been drowning in self pity the past few days, the Arabian owner of the food market down the street hasn't gotten his daily ogle of Mrs. Lolo and Mr. NeNe, who try unavailingly to stay warm behind thin fabric. It would be terribly selfish of me to suddenly strip the poor man of his eye medicine.

And, finally...

I'm horny.

I could go onto yahoo Farechase right now and book a flight to the island in the Pacific infested with young, randy military men ready to bump uglies...

But then I'd be a contender for the "Most Likely to Contract Gonorrhea and Chlamydia" list.

I could arrive Sunday evening and still have time for a night of hard-core drinking and pelvic rubbing with random boys I befriend in the shady bar down the street from the transgendered hookers...

But then I'd just get drugged, raped and sold to the highest bidder to be shipped to a whore house in Thailand.

I could get my kicks by calling a former "vagina time" friend from my uni years for a night of uncommitted, please-go-home-now-I-want-to-sleep, mediocre sex...

But, then I'd just have to masturbate after he left.

I could scramble around frantically searching for my special vibrating hoppety-hop friend buried beneath scraps of old fabrics and sewing utensils.

But then I'd just run out of batteries.

So, I am therefore obligated to stay in France and continue the sexual adventures with my little frog as returning to the island of woes would only be disastrous for my safety, health and sexual well-being.