Since my last post from Boston, I’ve relocated to Ithaca, NY for my sister’s graduation. While I am thrilled to be here for her commencement activities, all this family stuff has temporarily put a stop to my man-shopping until I leave for New York City tomorrow morning. So until my NYC adventures begin, I’ll try to amuse you with more ramblings about the Parisian scene.
According to my personal field research, many anglophone women — particularly American women — will have trouble communicating certain things to their Parisian suitors. This kind of miscommunication primarily revolves around the idea that anglophone women spend most of their waking hours turning down Parisian creeps, and said Parisian creeps spend most of their time in denial of this fact.
The best way to illustrate this particular anthropological phenomenon is with this handy chart that I’ve drawn up for you.
As you can see, dating in Paris can be fraught with misunderstandings.
A while back, I speculated that my lack of success on the Parisian dating scene could be due in part to an inherent language problem. But after the epiphany that resulted in the above chart, I now also believe that liaisons between anglophones and francophones could potentially be doomed for reasons that have nothing to do with language.
Simply put, Houston, we have a cultural problem.
For whatever reason, dating rituals here require the men to act like ass-hats and, unfortunately, the women seem to put up with them or egg them on.
I haven’t been able to figure out how to beat the system, so to speak, but I’ve a number of friends who have offered their advice on the matter. My buddy, Martin, who has long been baffled and concerned by the absurdity that is my love life in Paris, only had four words for me:
“Stop dating French guys.”
However, even though I agree with him in principle, in practice, I’m not going to stop dating Frenchmen.
It’s not that I’m determined to have a relationship with a Frenchman.
It’s just that I’m having so much fun with this blog.
And come on, you know that you love reading about these Parisian ass-clowns* that I meet.
So when I return to Paris next month, it’s on to the next…
*This great new addition to my vocabulary has come by way of my friend, Iroquois Pliskin. He has quite a way with words, and he and his brother have introduced me to wonderfully useful terms like “skank-pronging” and “schmo-hawk.” I tip my hat to their skilled wordsmithing.