first date.

i went on my first date in paris! actually, if im going to be completely honest, it was my first legitimate date since 2007. my definition of legitimate is this: with someone i actually reciprocate liking, doing something remotely date-like that is not a party (america) or a pub (england), usually there is tentative hand holding, and he actually asks if he can kiss me.

a few weekends ago, i met a french boy named romain at le social club. we talked during the night, in a drunken mix of frenglish. we exchanged numbers, and the very next morning, i received one text, simply reading ":)". with giddy excitement, i realized i had no clue how to respond. should i respond in french? would he understand if i responded in english? met with the same dilemma i assume he had faced, i decided imitation would be the best route. i simply sent back ";)". a few minutes later, i received a text with the url of his photography portfolio. i responded in kind, sending him a link to this blog. at a loss of what else to say, communication ended.

the next afternoon, i woke up to a text asking me, in english, what i had planned for the day.
"j'ai rien à faire. [i have nothing to do]" i responded in french, after googling it to make sure it was correct.
"you want see me? :)" he asked, continuing on in his broken english.
"ouais, quand?" [yeah, when?] i stubbornly, simply, said, continuing on in my insistence to learn french. eventually, he caught on, and we began texting only in french, me resorting to using random english words, when i was unsure of their french translation. we managed to set a time, however, and he came over to my house and took me on a walking tour of paris.

now, to a parisian, a walking tour means shopping. this i did not know. i hate shopping, i rarely do it. but it was actually quite fun. he showed me where the best shops were, which stores were thrift, and where the best end-of-soldes were. at the end of the night, even i had bought a pair of shoes [oxford lace-up flats. i'm in love.] my shoes were black. his were neon purple vans. [its a trend that is still continuing to this day.] he also pointed out the architecture, the art galleries, the restaurants, and the best places to go out.

after the walking tour, he went grocery shopping and came back to my house, and cooked me a real french dinner. it was turkey, wrapped in pork, wrapped in fat, boiled with potatoes and tomatoes. it was the richest meal i have ever eaten, and it was so good. we have been exchanging meals ever since, him showing me french breakfast and dinner, me making breakfast burritos, quesadillas, enchiladas, and french toast [which, ironically, they dont eat over here!]

he is a documentary photographer and sushi delivery boy. monday night, he had a gig to document a secret "skins party". he invited me along, but i decided a party that didnt start until midnight, or end until seven, wasnt the best idea on a monday. saturday he is documenting another secret party, this one called a "bloody party". katy and i are hoping to go to that, if he can get us tickets. then, the third week of march, he has been commissioned to belgium to take photos. i might go along on that one, depending on if i have my carte-de-sejour or not, which is my legal permission to leave the country of france.

much to the annoyance of my roommate [sorry, katy!!!], he has spent the majority of the last few weeks at our place. he comes "home" after work, usually bringing sushi or kebabs. we go grocery shopping, because he is a boy and eats all of our food. we go sightseeing, we went to see l'arc de triomphe and the eiffel tower on the night it snowed the heaviest. it was absolutely beautiful. he took me to a movie and dinner, which was avatar and mcdonalds. [i had told him the day before that i missed america, so he tried to recreate it. the frenchies have a very skewed perception of what americans value. i didnt have the heart to tell him that "macdo" is a last resort for me. i just ate my chicken nuggets with a smile.] he even came over on valentines day and we watched sappy romantic movies. we stay in most nights, trading english and french phrases, trying to understand each other. he knows all the good parties, all the good clubs, and all the good bands [especially the techno bands]. his involvement in my life has definitely opened up a side of paris i never would have had access to. and with his international "career", it might have opened up parts of europe as well.

beyond that, he is just amazing to have around. i am used to brooding writers and painters, not social photographers who make jokes and smile and dont understand how i can just wake up sad some days. the latter is so refreshing. i'm learning you dont have to be miserable to be an artist.

the language barrier causes problems, but not as many as you would expect. at first, i felt like a different person around him. i am a different person while speaking french, than i usually am when speaking english. but as the days go on, i feel more and more like myself. maybe i am just incorporating my new found french self into my old american self. that is, after all, what i came here to do. i can tell that he is a different person when speaking english. even the tenor of his voice changes, when speaking english, his voice gets softer and higher. his french voice is rumbly and deep, a little earthy and quite disconcerting. he gains more energy when speaking french to his friends, which i would never have thought possible. he is usually, even in english, an intense personality. 

however, there are some problems with dating a frenchman. i put my foot in it one day, so bad, that i literally googled "how to date a french guy". the results were informative. so many puzzling things romain had been doing were instantly explained.

i had noticed that romain never went more than six waking hours without sending me at least one text. usually, it was four or five successive ones. he never worries about who called last, or overcalling, and especially not dubs-texting. at first, it was off-putting. i enjoy the chase, i enjoy the game, but i have come to enjoy the honesty and the comfort of this approach. my roommate was having problems with an american boy here, they were playing the "whose turn is it??" game for so long that the game just ended.

according to google, french boys have this open approach because if they dont make contact every eight hours, french women will think they are not interested and date someone else. so, romain, used to dating french women, has now turned his approach on this american woman.

another thing i learned is that french people arent afraid of offending. french women are, in fact, afraid to be pleasing. they will purposefully be bitches and start arguments, so you see they have substance and something to say. in france, when someone is cold to you, it has no import and is commonplace. in america, when someone is cold to you, it usually means they are either mad at you or they dont like you. this was our first real cultural misunderstanding. katy got mad at romain, for invading her kitchen and simply being around too often. she yelled at him, was very cold, and any american would have known she was upset. romain did not, he didnt even notice a difference. i had to take him outside to explain how upset katy was. he was genuinely shocked and ran upstairs to confront katy right away. i have never seen such an open confrontation before. the french air out their dirty laundry, unafraid to offend and taking no offence. she called him annoying multiple times and he didnt even wince. it was amazing to watch.

some of the results werent as pleasing. in fact, they were the opposite of what i had been thinking and explained why romain had become so upset when i mentioned that i didnt want to be exclusive. in french culture, kissing means everything and sex means nothing. in american culture, kissing means nothing and sex means absolutely everything. in france, if you have sex, its not a big deal. but if you kiss, publicly, soberly, and when not part of sex, dating other people is no longer okay and you are officially in a relationship. after a few mild arguments, and one big altercation in front of a velib stop, we agreed to be official. eeeek.
 
we are quite different, it is terribly hard but utterly captivating. he speaks french, i speak english. he is completely french, i am rather american. he wears the brightest colors made by man [he has that nerdy hip-hop style], i very rarely wear anything brighter than light grey [i have that urban-camouflage, blend-in-with-the-buildings, style.] but the differences, i feel, are superficial and might make this more interesting!
 
we'll see how this goes! i figure, i am in the romance capital of the world. it would be a crime not to take advantage of it.