The trap of romantic Paris is that it has been curated for you in advance. The lock bridges are gone, but their spirit persists in a hundred packaged experiences designed to feel spontaneous. A picnic beneath the Eiffel Tower with a pre-assembled basket. A sunset boat tour with dozens of other couples. A restaurant whose menu has not changed since it appeared on a list somewhere.
None of this is wrong. But it is shared. And shared, in this context, means slightly less yours.
The couples who leave Paris having genuinely felt the city are the ones who allowed it to surprise them, who arrived with an inclination rather than an itinerary, and who found, in some unremarkable Tuesday afternoon in an arrondissement they hadn’t planned to visit, the afternoon they will still talk about in ten years.