I have been now single and legally divorced for one year and four months. I woke up very early that sunny Saturday of May around 6am.

For some reasons, I checked my ring finger. My ring wasn’t there and I knew it. I stopped showering, and after getting dressed, I went to my jewellery box and rediscovered it. I remembered how much I had hated it at first and then learned to like it over time. Pierre had always had appalling taste.

I decided to dig into my jewellery box and found my two engagement rings that reminded me of how I had broken up our first engagement and cancelled our first wedding. The sight of these three rings together almost made me sick. They were all awful. I concluded that it was time to get rid of these rings and just put them in my pocket.

At 7am, I decided to cancel my coffee date as a significant laziness invaded me. It wasn’t a one-off attitude for me – I had cancelled around 15 dates over the last couple of weeks. Conversely, I was still spending hours emailing, yet I didn’t want to meet any of these gentlemen. As a matter of fact, I was investing too much time online and spending zero time on dates. I also had some useless video calls with potential lovers in the United States and Greenland. Complete nonsense!

At this point, I had signed up for all existing dating sites and for some of them, I had communicated with all potential lovers. Through my research, I had discovered a few online dating sites of the scariest kind: www.theuglybugball.com for ugly. Seriously, who would sign up for this? And, of course, I didn't sign up. I had had my fill of ugliness with Gary at all levels.

Then there was http://www.superharmony.com for mega beautiful people. Of course, I signed up, just to realise that nobody in London considered themselves as mega-beautiful.

There was http://www.womenbehindbars.com for women in prison. Well everybody deserves love I suppose.

The website http://www.stdmatch.net was for people with STDs, including AIDS, which made me puke. Though I did sign up to check that none of my potential or former dates were there. No results… Thanks God!

And http://www.maritalaffair.co.uk was aimed at men and women in a relationship willing to cheat on their partners. Mmm…

All these websites didn’t help to increase my motivation, which was fast dwindling. And while I was at first interested by a date, I always had a reason not to see the man. I was apparently experiencing a dating burnout.

I was frustrated with trying to find the right person, going through all these annoying first dates that went absolutely nowhere. Even worse were my near-misses like Billy; everything was great until he decided to fuck me like a robot. Or douchebags like Adrian, François, James or Wayne, who seemed great at first glance, but proved to be assholes in disguise. The long-parade assholes and game-players were just plain toxic individuals for my soul. Some of them were only alive because it was illegal to kill.

I had a literal wake-up call the night before, when I received a call from my first love. Contrary to my former husband, we were still friends, and we shared our recent experiences and remembered our past. After the call, I suddenly realised how bad my experiences were and how much had changed since the old days. I was slapped by the truth: I became weak, desperate, and almost needy, trying too hard to please and accepting everything from some of my dates.

I didn’t know who I was anymore. I had completely lost my identity in this dating jungle. Plus, 16 months of singlehood, I had never taken time for myself. I wasn't even sure I was properly healed from my divorce.

I had to face the truth; I wasn’t fixed. I was kin fact, completely fucked up! I went on dates not knowing who I was. I needed to rediscover and understand my new self; I had been fighting an internal war without solid weapons. Now, shaken and mishandled by London, I was ready to be my real self.

When I had a good man, I ran away or fucked the relationship up. When I had a bad guy, I felt safe, because deep inside me I knew he wouldn't ask for a commitment. I hurt and burned myself, yet I was very quick to forget about all of them without looking back.

My Normal French self would have held Adrian accountable for what he promised and would have spotted that his attitude toward broken promises was a pattern and not a one-off.

My Normal French self would have spotted that Olive had no respect or genuine interest for me, pushing sex too soon.

My Normal French self would have cut ties immediately with rude and way-too-horny Martin.

That weekend, I wanted to review my priorities, contemplate my experiences, think and strategize my new life. I decided that my only goal was to move forward and consider London as my battlefield and a place to re-discover myself. But before that, I needed a proper date with Paris. I was ready for fun, laughter and nothing else. I was about to go back to my normal Moi.

So, that morning, I took the Eurostar to my home city. Paris: the Man of my life

I arrived in Paris around lunchtime. I decided to get a cab to my place; we passed by the Canal St Martin, which raised amazing memories of my student years. I recalled lunching down the Canal with my classmates Christina and Virginie. We were inseparable at the time, but I lost touch with them when I married Pierre. They hated him and the feeling was mutual. Passing by the canal made me smile; it reminded me how competitive I was at college; how I had wanted to conquer the world and that marriage wasn’t my priority at the time. I wanted my life so big, and I did everything I could to work for the companies I wanted to and to get the jobs I wanted. I was determined to be successful whatever the implications may be; I forgot to be that girl.

Then we passed by my first student flat, and the sight of it almost made me cry. All those parties I hosted there. I used to love organising soirées and having friends around at mine. Why had I never done this in London? Why was I not using my social skills anymore? I wondered where that part of me had gone.

I asked the driver to drop me at Place des Vosges, five minutes away from home. I decided to have a tour of the galleries I used to go to. Nothing had changed and I was pleased to catch up with some of my neighbourhood acquaintances. Most of them had heard about my divorce with Pierre and the fight we had, but they all admitted that they knew that our marriage wouldn't last. "You were so different!" I was told a couple of times. This made me smile; I was just happy and relieved that Pierre didn't have them all on his side.

I decided to eat at La Place Royale. I had a fantastic time talking with the waiter, Jean, who used to serve Pierre and I; it was good to remember Pierre too. It was Jean ‘s last day at the restaurant as he was opening his own café, and he invited me for the opening. Jean was euphoric to see a familiar face he could have a laugh with. This encounter again filled me with joy; I was reconnecting with Moi.

Later, I headed towards my flat. When I reached it, I took an enormous plastic bag and started throwing a lot of things.

I spent the whole weekend redecorating, walking around galleries and museums, eating in new restaurants, and shopping in new boutiques. I had my rings melted and made myself a new necklace with the Omega sign for infinite passion, infinite friends, infinite love and infinite joy.

I appreciated life to its fullest. No dating websites, no phone calls and no emails. I was free and alive. I felt ready to adjust to my current life, enjoying it with my lover London. Sorry Paris: I am cheating on you. I left Paris; happy I had made the trip.

London: best Lover ever

I was back in London Monday afternoon. The weather was welcoming: a lovely sunshine was invading the city.

When I got home, I decided to delete all of my online profiles.

I would create a new one in due course, but for the moment I wanted to embrace my single life. I made myself a list of things to do alone.

Over the next couple of weeks, I did a few things I’d never done before.

I read much more than usual. Instead of ordering food online, I took the time to cook for myself. I went to the movies alone a few times, went to a variety of workshops and went to see a few plays by myself where I met some amazing new friends.

I also had a solo dinner at 38 Mayfair. It was dreadful but so much fun. I ended up speaking with the table next to mine – a charming Italian couple, visiting London. We talked about life, politics and music. It was a fantastic night.

I treated myself; I was going to Bulgari Spa more than usual. I was free to spend all my money for my imaginary birthdays. I spoilt myself with beautiful makeup, clothes and shoes. I went all out!

I had a trip with the ladies to Iceland; we went to the blue lagoon, experienced hot springs and the fine local restaurants. It was resourceful to reconnect without talking about sex, men and relationships. We were all “us”: successful women, living in a big city and living life to its fullest.

I realised that I had unresolved past issues with Pierre. We hadn’t had a proper closure. Our divorce was a mess; we hadn’t spoken to each other since we had had that last fight. Pierre had sent very hateful and insulting texts to me until the divorce day. I hated that he hated me. So, in order to move forward in my life, I decided to call him. Pierre didn't pick up. So I sent him an emotional email explaining that I didn't understand why he hated me so much right now, even though for more than six years we had been lovers, best friends and formed a fantastic team together. Where did all that go? Pierre finally replied as he knew so well, "I tried to kill myself after our divorce. Does that help you understand why I hate you?”

I knew Pierre. I knew exactly the words he needed to hear to calm him down. I wrote back: "I am sorry to hear that. But believe me, even though I didn't try to kill myself, this divorce has been as painful for me as it has been for you.”

Pierre only replied that he couldn't be my friend presently. He needed to recover before talking back to me, and he would get in touch when he felt the strength to do so. I was happy we were not frenemies or lovenemies anymore.

It was so easy to pretend that I didn't care, but in fact, it was killing me: I missed Pierre. Not the love, nor the sex, but his friendship and his companionship. He knew exactly who I was; I used to tell him everything. He knew me from A to Z; I had no secrets with him. That was the most important thing I was missing: our unchallengeable and unbreakable complicity. Would I ever find this again?

I also realised that the dating experience made me sad, hopeless, frustrated and sometimes angry. But never, oh never, had it settled in my mind that all men were assholes. It was just I: an eternal optimistic. I may fall at times, but I will always get up and look forward to a brighter day.

Then, I was keeping myself busy and had created a new social life. I made new friends and was invited to a few events. More importantly, I booked some tickets for my first trip alone. I chose to go to Milan. This trip was to be the first of a few.

I re-discovered myself and re-learnt what I liked and disliked in a man. I loathed a lack of criticalness, small talk and gossips. I liked intelligent, cultured individuals; I liked to talk about intellect, the meaning of life, music that made people feel alive and different, books that inspired people, memories, childhood, people’s passions, insecurities and fears. I liked people with depth who spoke with emotional consciousness and with a twisted and wicked mind on top of it. I knew what I liked, and I knew what I was searching for.

At some point during all these amazing experiences, I stopped fighting my inner demons. We are on the same side now. And, I decided that it was time to try something new with dating.

While my friend Camellia decided to sign up with a proper dating agency, I decided to try Tinder. I wasn't looking for a relationship quite yet, but I was ready to mingle. I would experiment and go on dates with men that were different. And why not have some casual hook-ups? I wanted to have as much fun as I liked while I wasn’t attached to anyone.

Those couple of weeks really pepped me up! It had been better than going to therapy. On to the next chapter of my life! Next!