Ah, Paris. Otherwise known as the “City of Love.” I’ve been incredibly lucky (and what some would even say brave) enough to travel solo both in the United States and abroad, like when I went horseback riding in Zion National Park by myself or did a quick jaunt in London and met a lover on my trip. But I’ve never ventured to Paris alone — until now.
Maybe the whim to go alone never came because Paris is such a romantic city. Every time I’ve previously visited, something about the architecture, seemingly endless supply of wine, and incredibly good-looking people left me feeling glad to have had my partner traveling by my side.
Ironically, then, it only seems fitting that this choice to take a solo trip would come after something entirely less sexy: An all-consuming breakup. It was a deep hollowing out, a loss of how I saw things and myself. So, in what felt like a covert operation to find Hayley again, after months of holding onto what once was and what could now never be, I boarded a flight and headed to Paris for five days.
I went to Paris with a full solo itinerary
Seven hours later, I arrived well-rested, relaxed, and ready. Even though I’m a frequent solo traveler, I was admittedly a little nervous to take on Paris alone, so I stopped at the hotel first to take a breather. After getting situated in my room across from the breathtaking Tuileries Garden, I wandered to a nearby Arrondissement, where I treated myself to a pain au chocolat and an oat latte in an adorable café. There, I wrote myself a letter full of questions I longed for answers to. Can I love myself through this? Will I feel full desire and be desired again? Is this trip the answer? I couldn’t answer them then.
On the second day, I woke up bright and early to take in the sights. I had booked a boat cruise on the Seine, where I spent an hour and a half aboard, drinking Champagne and eating dark chocolate and strawberries. Seeing the Eiffel Tower literally tower above me and the other passengers on the water felt so fun, and even a little fancy.
Surprisingly, I was happy to be there by myself on an experience that couples typically do together. I even made some new friends with other solo boat-goers, and we shared espresso martinis afterward.
I rediscovered myself on my trip, despite my sadness
Of all the things I booked to do on this trip, though, the most exciting was a pleasure masterclass with sexpert Marie Morice. After experiencing a breakup that felt like something out of French noir, I wanted to explore my desires, what makes me tick, and how I could move beyond this.
Although I am a sex and relationships writer by trade, I learned a lot in the two-hour course. It was a refresher on my anatomy, the history of women’s pleasure and the control of it, and how, when we look into ourselves, we can find our own path of desire again. It felt nice to be surrounded by other women, each with their own stories, and sit with what I long for in my body.
I also attended a macaron-making class, which was one of the most fun experiences I had on the trip. Creating lemon and pistachio-flavored macarons with strangers made me get out of my head and into my hands and heart. The sugar touched my lips, and everything around me felt somehow sweeter.
Throughout the trip, I started to feel myself ignite again despite my sadness. I wandered through the steep streets of Montmartre, bought myself steak frites, met new friends, went to a sexy shop, and, instead of having a rendezvous with a man I swiped right on, I found my own self-pleasure in the sanctity of white sheets in a hotel bed with the windows open.
I also let myself be present for the first time in months. With every activity I did and each feeling I had, I reminded myself that not everyone gets the privilege of traveling alone. How wonderful is it that I can?
On the last day of my trip, I walked up and down the Seine before settling on a bench. I opened my journal and stared at the questions I had written days prior. Can I love myself through this? Will I feel full desire and be desired again? What then felt like an anomaly, a deeply rooted quandary I’d never find the answers to, suddenly seemed easier than ever before.
The answer is, and always was, yes. My self-love has always been there. I felt more connected to myself than I ever had before. Sometimes, I guess it just takes a little perspective (and solo travel) to see it.
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