I am Carrie Bradshaw

I made the incredibly conscious effort this week to stay away from the one block radius which his world revolves and it has been nothing but marvelous.
I've accepted invitations I might have otherwise declined in persuit of my obsession. Rekindled old friendships, sparked a million smiles with old flames, and remembered how to bowl.
I am Carrie Bradshaw. Now enter the phase of my life where I have an affair with a man my mother's age, though I would have never guessed he was that old.
He is intense, intelligent and kissed me in such a way it sent quivers through my entire being--in the middle of this party, with everyone watching and I felt very exposed, raw, and emotionally naked.
He whispered to me in french how beautiful and amazing I was. Had he spoken it in English I would have laughed at it's cheesiness, but in French...mmmm...in French in made me blush and look away.
When he looked at me he looked through my eyes into the core of my being with such intesity I thought I might start on fire. Even if I never see him again, which I doubt, he made me remember how amazing and beautiful I am.
I hate that I needed someone else to remind me of that.