I just got back from the weekend in Angra and I'm still cracking up all by myself.
Lucas basically kidnapped me: "You HAVE to come, my mom's just back from abroad and wants to see you again." Marie lives in Dubai most of the year, but sometimes she gets the itch to visit her kids in Rio.
We rolled up Saturday for breakfast and the house was already packed: Lucas's dad with his girlfriend who looks like my little sister, his sister with her dude, and Marie, obviously, absolute queen of the castle. Real name's Maria, but God forbid you call her that—she demands "Marie."
She greeted me on the veranda with that killer ocean view, ice-cold bottle of Dom Pérignon in hand and that total socialite vibe, all "Oh, what a riot," already dropping a "Bonjour, mes amours!"
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to my baby boy," she declared while knocking back the first glass. I just smiled, pretending to be the perfect daughter-in-law, while she launched into her usual monologue: Dubai this, Dubai that, the yacht parties with her sheikh buddy, the oldest son in Los Angeles, the grandkids... I just "wow, that's amazing," nodding along, smiling like the ideal daughter-in-law while she downed glass after glass. I shot Lucas a look like "for the love of God, save me" and the sneaky fucker just laughed, making little heart hands.
And then it was total déjà vu from last year, when I first met her, right there in Angra.
The old broad had just landed from Dubai, all decked out, tanned that way only someone lounging by the infinity pool at the Burj Al Arab all day can pull off. She stepped out of the car like an old-school movie diva: massive Chanel shades covering half her face, a Hermès Birkin bag—you know, the kind that runs like 150 grand easy—dangling from her arm.
Then we hit the boat ride. Lucas's dad was there too with the same young thing, and Marie showed up with a bottle of champagne in hand, popping it like it was water.
At first she was chill, even nice. Called me "darling," asked a million questions about me (obviously I edited my bio on the spot, you know, "traditional good-girl" mode activated). But then the boat pulled out a bit, the dad and the young chick headed up front to do God knows what, and Marie plopped down next to me and... holy shit, the show started.
She wouldn't shut up. Talked about Dubai like it was her backyard, the parties at the Burj, the houses she's owned in Portugal, in Los Angeles, the trips, the private jets, the "important friends." I just nodded like "wow, that's cool," while she slammed glass after glass.
Suddenly she switches to French, "Excusez-moi, chérie, je reviens tout de suite," heads to the boat cabin and vanishes for like 7 minutes. Comes back... way worse than before. I look, and there's a trace of white powder in her nostril, dude. Like, didn't even try to hide it. Then she really revved up, talking a mile a minute. Started philosophizing high as a kite: "You know, my dear... men... they get old and this happens... they trade us in for the young ones just to show off..." And then she looks at her son and says: "Take good care of her, Lucas, this girl's gold, a real princess."
Lucas just staring at the horizon, dying of embarrassment. Me trying not to bust out laughing right in her face. She's hugging me, calling me princess, topping off my glass, raving about how I'm "well-bred," "classy"... Man, if she knew my real resume, she'd have a goddamn stroke right there.
Fact: Marie adores me. Thinks I'm "such a sweetheart," "so well-mannered," "total class." But holy fuck... what a wild vibe. Completely loco.
And the funniest part? She's spot on about one thing: I really am a princess. Just the slutty version kkkkkkk.
Oh, and before I forget: here on the site, there are two ways to hit me up. You can chat right below on the left or email me. Drop me a line. I promise to reply... and who knows, maybe even spill more details that don't fit here.
Kisses from your
Naughty Little Princess 👑💖💋