On my flight from Singapore to Paris, seemingly out of the blue, a flight attendant started showing me a lot of attention. At first I thought he was just being friendly, especially since I had replied to another flight attendant in French before and he had overheard the conversation. (P.S. I don’t actually speak French. He asked me if I was me and if I had ordered the vegetarian meal. For shits ‘n giggles, I responded with, “Oui, c’est moi.” And he was all, “Oh! Parlez-vous français?” And I was like, “No, I only know that bit.” Hahaha.) But then he kept smiling and touching my arm and asking me if I needed this or that, and it made me raise an eyebrow and go “hmm”.
After the dinner service, I went in the direction of the restroom…only to bump into him, of course. He started chatting me up, asking me if I were a Singaporean. When I confirmed this, he lamented not meeting me two days ago because otherwise he would have had a friend here instead of wandering around aimlessly with his colleagues. Oh yeah? He picked up a random piece of paper off the floor (actually the dinner menu) and wrote his email address on it. He asked me if I could decipher his hand writing. I couldn’t because it was dark. So I moved towards the light and that was when he conveniently put his arm around my waist. Hoo boy.
Afterwards, as I was dozing off, I opened my eyes halfway to pull the blanket further up my chest, and I saw him standing over me, trying to help me pull the blanket up. Oh jeez. This all would have been flattering if he wasn’t 50 FUCKING YEARS OLD! My life, I swear. He ignored me the rest of the flight though. But when we reached Paris, he bade me au revoir and made a typing gesture to remind me to email him. Ahaha! Not gonna happen, dude.