Lost in the City of Love: A Personal Account of Being Ghosted in Paris

With the glamour of the Louvre Museum, Disneyland, the Eiffel tower, palais de Versailles, and the parc de Luxembourg, I had eyed Paris as a destination for my 22^nd birthday.  

For this new year, I had wanted to gift myself an experience that was worth memorable, serene and special. A trip to the capital city of France felt exciting, more so just right after my Barcelona trip. 

This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision, no. I had planned for this trip well in advance, long before the holidays even began, yet things still went south.

Funny enough, the trip I had to Barcelona had been an impromptu, yet it turned out to be magical.  

I had always spent my birthdays around family and friends if not people I know. So, for this one, I wasn’t looking forward to spending it alone in an Airbnb either.  

That’s when I thought of staying with a friend in Paris.  

Someone who had been living there for a while, who could show me around the city and its beautiful sights. So, I reached out to a friend I had met online, someone I’ll call “Stranger.” Our conversations were always effortless, and even though we hadn’t met in person, we’d formed a solid bond, or so I thought. 

Four months into knowing each other, I felt comfortable asking them to host me for two nights in Paris while we celebrated my birthday. We made plans a month ahead of April 24th, and they were just as excited as I was, hyping up the entire trip. 

I felt thrilled, this was going to be perfect, and I thanked my lucky stars for meeting them. 

Two days before my trip, I reached out to confirm that everything was set. They reassured me they’d be right there at Bercy station to pick me up. I sent them all the details, even a screenshot of my ticket, just to be thorough, coz I had no clue of Paris and its environs (teary emoji). 

One day to go, I text again, just to keep the convo active. Unread.

Hmm, okay, maybe they’re busy. Afternoon: still grey. Evening: no response. I decided to call. No answer.  

My mind drifted back to past birthdays where I had been let down, and it felt like this one might be no different.

Still, I reassured myself, that they’d come through. I went ahead with my trip, hoping everything would fall into place once I arrived in Paris. 

The next morning, sun rise found me at Gare de Bercy Seine, getting my two-day fare ticket, searching for the exit and preparing to wait for stranger.  

Klik Klak, I texted them to say I had just found the exit and was waiting for them. 

Oh, boy! You won’t believe what Stranger said. 

“Oh, damn! I’m at school, and I forgot my Navigo card (a kind of ticket to get around Paris on the train, metro, or bus) and bank card at home. Sorry, I can’t pick you up now.” 

I thought, fine, no problem. “How long will it take you to go home and grab it, then come meet me?” 

All I heard was fumbling, nothing that made sense. But I stayed calm and suggested we meet later in the afternoon.  

Thankfully, I had a Plan B where I could freshen up and relax, while waiting for my “tour guide” to arrive and make my birthday memorable. 

Afternoon arrived, so I asked, “How far are you?” 

After a long grey tick, I got the response: “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any cash. Could you deposit some money into my account so I can recharge my Navigo card and come meet you?” 

I read the message, took a deep breath, and chose not to react or get mad.

My mind raced with thoughts of how we had planned this trip for a month. Stranger had hyped me up and promised to make it all worthwhile. 

If they needed money, why wait until the D-day to announce it? We could have discussed this two days ago and figured something out.  

Surely on the eve of my birthday, I thought it a lame excuse to not show up. 

I re-read the text a couple of times, left it on read, blocked, and deleted the number.

While in Barcelona, I met a friend I’ll call “Angel.” By chance, they were staying in Paris and came to my rescue. 

They hosted me, and even though it was an impromptu plan, we celebrated my birthday together. We took lovely photos and videos, and they simply made the day special. 

Even though I had known them for only a few weeks, I was treated like we’d been friends for years.

My trip to Paris became memorable not just because of my birthday but because I met someone who showed genuine kind and generosity. That was the best gift I could ask for and a reminder to always be grateful.

As I celebrated turning 22, I was full of gratitude for how life’s events kept unfolding.

I could have sulked and dwelled on having the worst birthday ever, but even storms give way to clear skies.