She first saw him in an online forum for people searching for pen pals. She was looking to add some zing and zap, some pizazz, to what she considered an ordinary existence.
He was looking for the same.
She reflected on her past, about what gave her pleasure and joy. Her reflection led her all the way back to high school. French class. She remembered how she embraced the language. How she had a knack for it. How it was so very s-e-x-y. So she searched the ads for native French speakers.
He had no preference. He looked for connections from all over the world. Japan. China. Great Britain. Brazil. He was going for the exotic.
She pored over the postings and finally found a few of interest. She sent messages and waited patiently for replies.
He did the same.
She decided to make it even more interesting and tried to only respond to men. That can be quite challenging in French: Dominique? Patrice? Alexis? She had no idea, and didn’t know how to tell the difference…
He didn’t have that problem at all.
Then she saw what she was searching for: FRANK. Not Francis. Not François. Frank. And so she wrote to him.
And he responded.