Saturdays under the plane trees – Pétanque and the art of relaxed living
- xero-one

- Dec 11, 2025
- 3 min read

Every Saturday morning I cycle to the small village square in southern France. There they stand: eight, ten older gentlemen between 58 and 78, all in light linen trousers and short-sleeved shirts, some wearing straw hats or berets. They play pétanque under the plane trees. The balls clack softly, and every now and then a satisfied murmur rings out.
“Bien joué”, lots of laughter, clinking of pastis glasses.
The air smells of warm dust, rosemary, and cigarettes. Everything moves slowly; no one is in a hurry. I sit down on the bench opposite, drink a café crème, and soak up this incredible serenity. These men radiate something I find nowhere else: pure joy of life without any pressure.
It's particularly hot today. One of the men – I'm calling him "Monsieur René" in my mind (perhaps 68, silver hair, well-groomed mustache, strong forearms, shirt open to the third button) – is wiping the sweat from his forehead with a white handkerchief. As he does so, his shirt rides up a little, revealing the beginnings of a small, round belly and the waistband of light blue underpants.
He laughs loudly at a joke, places his hand on another player's shoulder, and leaves it there a moment longer than necessary. I notice my gaze lingering on his hands, on the veins, the age spots, the strong fingers. A faint flutter in my stomach, but for now, it can be dismissed as pure admiration.
The game is over. The men exchange kisses on the cheek and pat each other on the back. Monsieur René is the last to leave, collecting the balls. I help him—our hands touch briefly as we both reach for the same ball. He smiles warmly and says in a deep, smoky voice, "Merci, jeune homme." His gaze lingers on my face for a moment too long. He smells of sunshine, pastis, and a light, masculine cologne. For the first time, the image flashes through my mind: what it would be like if he simply took me with him right now… somewhere where no one could see us. I feel my penis swell slightly, but I push the thought away.


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