'Comme tu es'

Disclaimer - this one isn't particularly funny. It's light-hearted, but you might be disappointed if you're expecting my usual style of humorous bitching.

I've been single for 7 years. More like 30 years, but the last official man in my life, albeit short-lived, was about 7 years ago. I'm fine with that. If I really really wanted a boyfriend right now, I could probably find one. But experience has taught me (finally) that quality is more important than quantity. Or to be more blunt, someone needs to be really special to make me want to give up my life of independence and answering to no-one. For me, the downsides of being single (and there are many) are not outweighed by the upsides of being with someone you're just not that into but that you're with because it's better than being single. That's not saying I wouldn't like to find my final partner-in-crime. I am not looking forward to a future of holidays alone and going to events without a significant other and I still hold out a little teeny tiny bit of hope that someone out there will want to hang out with me as much as I would like to hang out with them during our latter years.

I've been through my fair share of nightmare relationships, so yes, I'm wary (some might call it fussy). I don't think I'm fussy, I've just become a little bit better at spotting the BRF's (Big Red Flags) that I was immune to for 30 odd years and trying to not ignore them, as I had a tendency to in the past. Let's not forget the big mistake that was Steve/Taylor. It was like a Chinese National Day parade there were so many massive red flags being flaunted in my face, but still I managed to ignore them.

A decade ago, when I chose to come and live in Monaco, I was well aware that the dating life for a single woman who isn't under 28 years old and under 55 kg wasn't going to be easy. So I haven't even looked for a partner, firmly believing in that classic phrase 'Que Sera Sera'. And if 'Que' doesn't 'Sera' for me, then I'm just fine being single. I have to also admit that since being here, I have literally never been flirted with. Not once. But it's a bit like riding the proverbial bike - you still recognise flirting even if your return flirting skills are a bit rusty.

So this brings me to the point of this story. There is a waiter at a restaurant I frequent regularly with my very elderly parents. One of those places where all the staff have been there forever and the place runs like clockwork and they beam and say 'Oh Monsieur Webb - how nice to see you' when Dad enters to his great delight. One of the waiters there flirts with me and it's been going on for a couple of years now. I guess he's a similar age to me and he's a consummate professional at his job. He's charming to my parents but his flirting with me has gone from amusing to awkward. When he leers at me I smile and try to extricate myself from the inappropriate situation. I never reciprocate the flirting. I don't want to be rude as he's not a bad person, but I'm pretty surprised he hasn't gotten the the hint yet that I'm not interested. It's not like I'm the epitome of tact and discretion.

He gave me his phone number well over a year ago and asks me every time I see him why I haven't called him. I reply, in what I hope is a light hearted jokey manner, that his number is still on my desk, but I just haven't felt the need to call it yet. He even tried the 'can you fix my computer' line, and I said 'Sure bring it in and I'll take it home and work on it'. He replied 'No it's a desktop, you have to come to my house to fix it'. Errrrr no.

When in the restaurant, if I don't manage to seat myself against the wall, he strokes my back every time he leans over to serve us our seabass or pour the wine. When I don't react, he does it again. He would ping my bra strap if he could, I can feel him trying to get his finger under it, but my scaffolding like bras aren't letting any wayward fingers in.

Together with these not so subtle attempts at flirtation, there is one phrase he ALWAYS uses. Literally every time I enter or leave the restaurant, or even if I venture to the loo he accosts me. 'Tu sais' he whispers, rancid breath way too close to my face, 'moi je te veux comme tu es'. To any of you who don't speak French he is saying 'I want you/will take you as you are'. He smiles as he says this - as if it's a massive compliment. He often precedes it with something along the lines of 'I don't care how much money you have, or how rich your parents are'. Which just goes to show how little he knows about me. He doesn't know if my parents are particularly wealthy or not - ok they live in Monaco, but they drive an Audi not a Bentley and if he knew us Webbs at all, he would know that they have every intention of leaving their offspring as little as possible.

He doesn't even know if I live in Monaco or not, or what I do, or what I earn, or anything whatsoever about me. I have a couple of decades old Chanel handbags but the rest of my wardrobe is pure Zara and H&M so I'm not exactly oozing the heiress vibe. So telling me he's not interested in the money I don't have is just a bizarre statement that I can only assume is meant to encourage me to realise how genuine his intentions are.

I'm not a snob when it comes to my significant others' careers. In fact my ex'es with an actual full-time job are definitely in the minority. So a waiter in Monaco (with decent tips) isn't something I would necessarily turn my nose up at even if it wasn't quite the dream scenario I had when moving here. If I'm not keen on him it's just because he does nothing for me in any way, shape or form and nothing to do with his career, at which he is excellent. I don't find him funny, charming, or good looking. He's not bad looking, and I'm not that fussy in the looks department, but I do need some charm and humour before I let my guard down. Oh and good teeth, which he doesn't have.

But that one phrase that he says every single damn time. 'Je te prends comme tu es' just grates on me. He is literally spelling it out (repeatedly) that I should be thankful because he's willing to take me as I am. As if I am something so inferior that I should leap at the opportunity for any man to want to shag me. I'm not dumb, he's talking about my weight. Thanks to my recent facial peel, some genetically English rose skin, and those extra kilos, facially I don't particularly look my age, but the one thing that differentiates me from most 50 something women here is that I am, ahem, 'curvy'. He's telling me pretty bluntly, that he wants to shag me even though I'm fat. Does he think most other men put me on a diet before they dare to see me naked? No, they just pass me by if my figure doesn't appeal to them. Just as I want to pass him by because he doesn't appeal to me.

He also makes plenty of other insinuations about how he will make me feel amazing, how I have no idea what I'm missing, how he will come to my house and make me feel things I've never felt before with a man. (nauseous springs to mind).

For starters, I am perfectly comfortable with my weight. Sure I am always up for losing a kilo or two, but I've been this weight for a decade now and I'm ok with it. Not slim, not huge, relatively fit and healthy, in my humble opinion my body is just fine. Does he really think I am that bloody desperate to 'have a man' that I'll just invite him round for a bunk up and be forever grateful that he isn't revolted by my wobbly thighs? Does he have that little knowledge of the 50something female to know that most of them would far rather go to bed with a bottle of champagne and a chocolate orange than a random waiter?

Yesterday he cornered me as I entered the restaurant, telling me how 'magnifique' I looked and how my presence had made his day. I was in a dress and knee high boots and I'd bothered to do my make-up for once, so I was feeling pretty magnifique until he came out with his favourite phrase 'tu sais, moi je te veux comme tu es'. This was before I'd even sat down. As every dish got served I got the fingers stroking up and down my back. The more I ignored, the more insistent the fingers. As we are leaving, I ask him to get our coats. He says YET AGAIN - you don't know what you're missing, I like you how you are. Well by now I've had a fair few glasses of Ruinart and Puligny Montrachet so if there is one thing I am feeling, it is feisty.

What do you mean by 'comme je suis?' I ask, looking him straight in the eye. 'Well.....', he replies and literally scans me from head to toe and back up again, showing me exactly what part of me that he considers to be substandard. 'I don't care what you look like'. He is completely unaware of how insulting this is. I try, as per usual, to extricate myself politely from the situation but he's holding the coats as ransom so I change tactics. With a large smile I grab the coats and say 'I'll tell you how I am, I am magnifique.'

Holy Moly what a turnaround. His face dropped, he stepped back in shock (thank God as the stale breath in my face wasn't pleasant). 'If you're that kind of woman, I want nothing to do with you. I can't stand women who are full of themselves. I had no idea you were like that.' He looked genuinely appalled.

BINGO. Just another man who coercively controls without even realising it. Tells you how lucky you are that he fancies you despite you being less than perfect, but if you show an ounce of self confidence - he slaps you back down to where he wants you - in a permanent state of gratitude that he is willing to put up with your faults and inadequacies. The kind of man who has to feel superior at all times, who needs women to melt with appreciation as he dominates them in the bedroom. A man who will compliment you but every compliment has an underlying little dig in it.

I might just use his phone number now. I might write him a message explaining how I would appreciate if he could refrain from touching my back whenever he passes by our table. And that if I haven't called him before, it's because I don't want to see him socially or romantically. I will ask exactly what he means by 'comme tu es' and point out just how rude this is to anyone let alone a customer.

I would have put up with his awkward flirting for a lot longer had he not turned on me when I dared to say 'I am magnifique'. It was such an eye-opener to see his true colours. How this had never anything to do with actually liking me (how could he, we've never had a proper conversation), but how he preys on women he considers to be insecure, how he is only interested in people who he thinks will idolise him and be grateful for his attention in the bedroom. How he has judged over the years purely based on my looks (or lack of) and how his perception of my single status at my great age must equal desperation for a man, any man, to rid me of the shame of singledom.

Well sleaze-ball, you're wrong. I am not the kind of woman who thinks I am magnifique, but why shouldn't I be? What's wrong with having some self esteem? He has daughters in their early 20's and I am sure they are all about female empowerment as they should be. I'd like him to witness some sleazy dude try to pick them up using the same derogatory style that he does when attempting to flirt with me, and see how he feels about that.