When we met...

It was in a restaurant. He (M) was dragged away from dinner at home to meet the new girlfriend of an acquaintence. He was so debonair and handsome, sophisticated and genteel. I was so nervous about spilling my wine or using the wrong fork. He had an immediate effect over me when he walked in, and I, unfortunately, was there with his acquaintence.

Foolish as I was, I didn't realise that I was a conquest for -- we shall call him -- Sidi. Sidi was from the Maghreb, but lived in Belgium. What a life he had! Too bad I didn't realise that he was a con artist, and he was using me to cover his tracks. It was the first time that I had gone out with someone who was significantly older than I was, and I was adoring the attention I received from him, his friends, and his business partners. It was a dream.

Certainly, some things seemed a little bit ... off ... and there were some inconsistencies in his story, but I was living the high life and I was about to let go. The finest restaurants the city had to offer, we would be dining in them. Every night. Aperatifs here, digestifs there, and perhaps a meal in between. And then, in the middle of it all, walked M., and I froze. He was the counterpoint to all of the fun that i had been having, the serious, handsome, successful older man. Who hated me. Or so I thought...