Sunday Morning in Paris - the morning after the night before

As I do my favorite run on a Sunday morning, I notice not just one but a few men walking home after the night before. These men look a little haggard. Still in their suits, they walk head down heading for home. Stubble on their chins, suit jacket draped over their shoulder, they are testimony to the passion of a Saturday night in Paris. A decision to stay over - perhaps because they were drunk? No, I think not. Paris is truly the city of passion. Here the men ogle you with their eyes and have no problem walking up to you and propositioning you in broad daylight. And its not just the older men. You can see it in the older school boys eyes. They have, of course learned from their papas. As a woman, it is nice to be appreciated. It is not a look that is disparaging. No - it is the look of appreciation. Appreciation of beauty - of subtle nuances. As I run past one more Mr Romantic, I almost think I can smell the perfume she left on him. My mind disappears in thoughts of the romance of the night.
Aaaah Paris. City of love!