Ah, Paris. Often referred to as the "City of Love," it is a destination that evokes dreams of romance, art, and gastronomy. But for me, this trip was about personal rediscovery. I've had the privilege of traveling solo in various countries, from horseback riding in the stunning landscapes of Zion National Park to a quick visit to London where I even met a romantic interest. However, I had never considered exploring Paris on my ownuntil now.

Perhaps my reluctance stemmed from the citys reputation as a romantic haven. My previous visits were always accompanied by a partner, where the beautiful architecture, a seemingly endless supply of exquisite wine, and the charming locals made me grateful for their company. But ironically, the push for this solo adventure came after experiencing something profoundly unromantic: an all-consuming breakup. It was a time of deep reflectiona hollowing out of my identity and my perspective on love itself. In what felt like a covert operation aimed at finding Hayley again, I decided to embark on a five-day journey to Paris to reconnect with myself after months of grappling with the remnants of a past relationship.

My itinerary was meticulously planned for my solo sojourn in Paris. After a seven-hour flight, I arrived feeling surprisingly well-rested and eager to explore. Yet, I must admit a wave of nervousness washed over me at the prospect of navigating the City of Love alone. I decided to take a moment to breathe, so I checked into my hotel, conveniently situated across from the breathtaking Tuileries Garden. After settling into my room, I ventured out to a nearby Arrondissement, where I treated myself to a delightful pain au chocolat and a rich oat latte in a quaint caf. It was there I took pen to paper, writing myself a letter filled with poignant questions: Can I love myself through this? Will I ever feel desired again? Is this journey the key to unlocking my answers? At that moment, the answers felt elusive.

On my second day in Paris, I woke up early, ready to embrace the beauty that awaited me. I had booked a boat cruise along the Seine, where I spent an enchanting hour and a half sipping Champagne and savoring strawberries dipped in dark chocolate. As I watched the iconic Eiffel Tower loom majestically in the background, I reveled in the joy of experiencing it all by myself, an activity often shared by couples. To my surprise, I struck up conversations with fellow solo travelers, and we bonded over espresso martinis afterward, sharing laughter and stories.

The highlight of my trip was undoubtedly a pleasure masterclass led by the knowledgeable sexpert Marie Morice. After enduring a breakup that felt reminiscent of a French noir film, I was eager to delve into my desires, rediscover what ignites my passion, and figure out how to transcend my heartbreak. Despite being a writer focused on sex and relationships, I found myself learning invaluable insights during the two-hour course. It served as a refreshing reminder of my anatomy, an exploration of the history of women's pleasure, and the ways in which we can navigate our own paths to desire. Surrounded by a supportive group of women, each with their own unique stories, I was reminded of the importance of self-exploration.

In addition to this enlightening experience, I attended a macaron-making class, which proved to be one of the most delightful activities of my trip. Creating lemon and pistachio-flavored macarons with strangers allowed me to momentarily escape my thoughts and immerse myself in the joy of creation. The sweetness of the sugar filled the air, and everything around me felt a little brighter.

As I continued my journey through Paris, I could feel the embers of my spirit reigniting despite the sadness that lingered in the background. I strolled through the charming streets of Montmartre, treated myself to delicious steak frites, forged new friendships, and even ventured into a provocative shop. In a twist of fate, rather than seeking solace in a romantic encounter through a dating app, I discovered the beauty of self-pleasure, finding comfort in the solitude of my hotel bed with the windows wide open, letting in the life of the city.

For perhaps the first time in months, I allowed myself to be fully present. With every new experience and every emotion that arose, I reminded myself of the privilege of traveling alone and how extraordinary it is to embrace such freedom. On the final day of my trip, I strolled along the banks of the Seine, eventually finding a quiet bench to reflect. I opened my journal to the questions I had penned days earlier. Can I love myself through this? Will I feel complete desire and be desired once more? What had once seemed like an impossible riddle suddenly appeared clearer than ever.

In the end, the answer was and always had been, yes. My capacity for self-love had been waiting for me to recognize it. I felt more connected to myself than I had ever experienced before. Sometimes, it just takes a shift in perspectiveand perhaps a solo tripto reveal the truth within.