Ooh la la - The Paris Romance is Official (as verified by Facebook)

I held off announcing that I had been romancing with a Frenchman. I did it for lots of reasons. I’ll explain.

But lets start at the beginning…..

On one of my solo trips to Paris years ago, I stumbled upon a street in Le Marais (a district of Paris) called “Rue des Archives”. It had 4 or 5 cafes/restaurants/bars with rows and rows of seats on the street in front where everyone can sit and watch people walk by. Those who know me can imagine my joy when I realised that these cafes were inhabited by lots and lots of gay men, their fag hags and drag queens. I had finally found Gay Central in Paris!

I chose the cafe that I liked the look of the most and went inside to order a coffee. I was warmly welcomed by hot gay (or so I thought) waiters and treated like family. The coffee was good, the price was right and I vowed to come back again. That cafe is called “Les Marrioniers” and every time I came back to Paris I made a point of going there. I have always had great, friendly service from hot waiters. I couldnt understand why they were so nice, and I figured it must have been because it was in Gay Central.

So one day, dressed nicely, and on my way back from a particularly horrible afternoon spent at the Prefecture trying to get my Carte de Sejour (temporary residency card), I decided that I just needed to be somewhere where I felt at home, comfortable and have a few minutes to think and lift my spirits. Of course, Les Marroniers was more like home to me than my apartment and flatmates, so I stopped in for a coffee. I’d only really been there for dinner, and not afternoon coffees, so it was good to experience it at another time of day.

I plopped myself down and was greeted warmly (again) by (another) hot waiter. I remember thinking that he was hot, and feeling a tinge of disappointment that he was gay. He offered to turn the music down for me and I thought that was a really nice thing to offer, beyond the call of duty. I paid the bill and he held his hand out to give me the change in my hand (and not on the table, like most waiters do). I felt something papery in my hand, knew I wasnt supposed to get any notes back as change, so I thought it was the receipt.

But no. It was a little folded hand-written note. I smiled to myself, I probably blushed, and kept my head down. It said that I was charming and that it would be a pleasure to have a drink with me. A phone number. A name. ‘M’.

I continued smiling and walked out of the cafe without looking back.

God damn French men and their romantic ways!

On the walk home, I thought about the note, and the offer. I know that Parisien men like to have flings with foreign women. Its a real notch on their belt (because they slept with someon “different”), and because foreign women are usually so much warmer and easier to get into bed than French women. Especially when they think the girl is English (no offence to my English friends, but I’m sure you’ll admit that English girls, in general, have a reputation). I certainly got the impression that I wasnt the first girl to get a note with her change from a “cafe creme” – it was too smooth and he seemed too at ease with the process. I really had no desire to be another notch on the bedpost, and I certainly do not like cliched romantic approaches. Maybe it sets other girl’s hearts ablaze, but I just think little notes like that are emotional fluff.

But then I thought about how I could use this situation to my advantage, turn his cliched romantic Frenchman approach into something I could benefit from. And so I thought:

If I had a drink with him, that would be a 1 hour free French conversation lesson. People underestimate the benefit that comes from having a Frenchy speak with you constantly for 30 mins or an hour. In social situations, its completely painful to listen to someone stumble over their pronunciation and getting the past tense correct. People turn off after 2 minutes. Which is why French schools charge enormous amounts for you to have “conversation classes” or one-on-one conversation with a real French person. If I had a drink with him, he would be obliged to talk to me, and even more motivated to be patient because he wanted to get me into bed. Brilliant!
Being unemployed, and feeling the pain of having my Australian dollars turned into Euros, is really no fun financially. I just couldnt afford to go out for drinks whenever I wanted to, and really had to keep my spending in check. This invitation gave me at least one free cocktail, maybe 2 if I was lucky. Awesome!
Who doesnt like staring at a hot Frenchman for an hour? Mega eye-candy!!

So I sent him a text, and said yes.

We went for a drink, he was very quiet, but really very down to earth and kind. He was not the flashy Pepe Le Pew that I imagined. I got more than an hour of French conversation and 2 cocktails.

I agreed to see him again, mainly because he was just a nice person. But there were a million things stopping me from falling headlong into a wild love affair.

One was because of some unfinished romantic business back in Sydney. That got resolved not long after, but still, I was in no mood to start another romance when one had just flattened me.

Also, I wasn’t looking for love in France. I was looking for my residency card, somewhere to live, friends and a job. A relationship was certainly not a priority. I just didnt have the attention or the time for it.

I questioned whether I had subconsciously sought out a relationship. I’m not really quite “settled” in Paris yet and have had a million admin things to do. Maybe, just maybe, I was looking for someone/something to provide me stability? A shoulder to cry on when I’ve had a tough day? Someone to help me ease into Paris and France more easily?

I also questioned whether I was just getting too caught up in being in France, romanticising my journey too much?

And yes,I really did think for a long time, “He’s French and may therefore just be stringing along a naive little Australian girl who doesnt speak french very well”, that he just had temporary beating love hearts for eyes and wanted to chase black and white cats, Pepe Le Pew style, but will be off chasing a ginger cat once the novelty wears off. He certainly turned on all his French charm and was declaring his undying love and smothering me with affection as only Latin men can (this is NOT an easy thing to get used to as an Australian woman, when the Australian man version of affection is a sly arse grab in a nightclub).

And he doesnt speak English very well.

And he’s younger. MUCH younger. (Which I didnt realise until after we’d had a proper chat). I am generally, unconsciously, attracted to men younger than me but this, this is really pushing the limits. I really thought there was going to be some massive maturity disparity issues.

And importantly, how can I start a relationship with someone when I may not even be here in a few months? Even if I DO find a job in Paris, then “Working Kristie” is a totally different beast to “Unemployed, Cafe Loitering Kristie”. Knowing how some previous boyfriends have reacted to “Working Kristie”, it is still a risk that he will run a mile before I even get my first pay-cheque.

And to be honest, this relationship has been a real, slow-burner. Really slow. So slow that at first, it was like when you turn the gas on the stove, but on the lowest possible setting, that sometimes, the flame just cuts out. I’m used to relationships that start out like the equivalent of the whole stove exploding. It knocks me off my feet, whirls me around, gives off some nice heat from the dying embers, but in the end, leaves me with a pile of burnt wreckage and nothing to make dinner with. I have had no experience with a slow starter relationship and frankly, its bloody confusing.

And no, I wasnt really sure about French dating rules and when it was safe to say its “official”. (A separate post on french dating rules is forthcoming!)

So for months and months I kept him at arm’s length. I didnt really introduce him to my friends and visitors. I kept a large part of my life private and to myself.

And then, during their visit to Europe, 2 friends held an “intervention”. They analysed every one of my doubts and fears about the relationship. So after a couple of hours, and more than a few tears, I finally realised that (a) most of my fears were based on issues in past relationships that I was projecting onto him, (b) he had not done or said anything to give me cause to have those doubts and fears (c) if I continued to doubt his sincerity, then there was a real chance that this would destroy the relationship (d) I was, actually, very happy being with him, and maybe that would change in the future, but I didnt know that for a fact, so why not just continue on and make decisions if anything negative arose?

After that, I went back to M as a new woman. Light hearted, happy, open and ready to love.

I even changed my Facebook status to “In a Relationship”. And THAT means the romance is REALLY official.