Dinner in Paris with a stranger

While I was in Paris for Thanksgiving break, I met somewhat of a real-life Emily in Paris at the Gare de Versailles-Chantiers. For the sake of this post, let’s call her Jo.

Jo is a blond-haired woman around the same age as my mother. She hails from Chicago and has no husband or children, so she can do whatever the hell she wants, whenever the hell she wants. Jo is incredibly stylish and, like myself, was traversing Île-de-France solo.

After bumping into one another on a train platform and discovering we were both American, Jo and I sat across one another on the RER trip back to Paris and spent the next 40 minutes discussing our lives in intimate. (If you are wondering if I ever thought to myself, this could be a murderer/kidnapper/con artist, I did — after which I thought, fuck it 🙂.)

I was fascinated by Jo mostly because she did not appear to give a fuck about what anyone else thought of her. It’s a mindset that most women above the age of 35 claim to hold, but never seem to actually embody. Specifically, Jo’s choice to forego marriage and a family would (unfortunately) terrify a lot of women on the basis that those things are “just things you’re supposed to have,” i.e. societal norms.

As the train slowed to a halt in Montparnasse, we quickly exchanged Instagram handles and scurried off to our connecting metros. After some back-and-forth, we agreed to grab dinner near the Champs-Élysées the next day.

Over glasses of Rosé and a small tray of fried camembert, we continued our conversation from the train. Night had just settled in on Paris and string lights softly illuminated the bustling street beside us.

If you’re familiar with me in real life, you’d probably know that, for reasons that will go undisclosed online, I think often about my own mortality. This is why I asked Jo the following: if you died tomorrow, would you be happy with yourself and the choices you made?

“Yes,” she answered honestly, as the waiter set down plates of hanger steak, fries and salad in front of us. “Because I lived my life for myself.”

To break this down further for you, Jo argued that because she did not have a husband or kids, every choice she made was in her own best interest. She could fly to another country if she wanted to. She could avoid family Thanksgiving dinners and accompanying political arguments if she wanted to. She could buy herself a luxury purse if she wanted to. And while I’d bet some disgruntled single man would call Jo selfish for not living her life for others, I’d also bet you that no one could contest her genuine contentment.

It is important to note that we did agree that living life for yourself does not necessarily equate to avoiding marriage or children. It mostly just has to do with doing what you truly want without fear of others’ judgement. I would want a family with the right person, for example, but I would not seek out a relationship just because I think I should be in one.

I should acknowledge, though, that I am much younger than Jo. No matter how many odd life experiences I have, Jo no doubt has plenty more simply by virtue of being older. She chuckled knowingly when I made predictions about my own life, and we spent the rest of the night talking about our upbringings and travels.

“I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again,” I told her as we stood and slipped on our coats.

“We probably won’t,” she agreed. “But keep me posted.”