Jean Claude - Damn!

Not too long ago, I met an interesting guy.  Not interesting enough to date, I must add, but interesting enough to hang out with on occasion.  I’m one picky bitch, after all, but that’s another story.

He’s French, manages a local chain restaurant (My pal Michelle could easily guess which one!), and is quite talkative.  He’s been in the US since high school, when his father was posted here with the French Embassy.  He went to a very good uni in DC, but dropped out.  Jean Claude (that’s his name) doesn’t need to study, or even work.  He doesn’t need to stay here, either, but he says he likes it.  His pops is one loaded mo-fo, having made a fortune in real estate by buying up property in the various countries he’s been sent to.  Now he lives in London and works for the IMF, or World Bank, or whatever.  After Hurricane Katrina obliterated the South, Pops sent 45Gs to a relief fund.  I was well impressed, but JC casually reminded me that it was just for tax purposes.  Or however you say it.

Pops has a Haitian sugarbaby in Miami, and a six-year-daughter as a result.  The little girl lives in London, too, but is raised by JC’s uncle.  For some reason, Uncle raised all of Pops’ kids.  Maybe he’s the Uncle-cum-travelling-brother-nanny.

JC (gotta love those initials) just bought a house in VA, drives one of his three Mercedes around town, and parties in DC on the weekends.  He gets a sweet allowance, you see.  His accent is stereotypically charming and he smells nice and dresses well.  He likes Virginia better than DC because the strip clubs here have lap dancing.  He told me I was beautiful, which was nice but also very predictable.  He offered me two year’s teaching salary to stay here instead of going to Turkey, which was nice but also very laughable.

I’d like to say that I always meet the strangest characters, but I think everybody is strange.  JC’s just strange *and* obscenely wealthy.