after looking over my past relationships, i have realized i very rarely go on dates. or even outside for that matter. i tend to stay in a tiny bubble with my significant other and neglect all else. i am in france for only a short time, and have decided to fight that tendency with all my might. i need to make a strong effort to still hang out with friends, which is relatively easy because romain works from eleven until midnight pretty much six days a week.
a few days ago, sunday i believe, i realized that i wanted to go to dinner with romain. not buying food at disnyeland, not going to mcdonalds, not making each other dinner but a real dinner date. the problem is, romain tends to be cheap when it comes to anything but shopping. which is understandable, because he works so often and for so long, but almost every penny of it goes to his photography school. although i understand his thriftiness, it left me with a problem: how was i to broach the subject that i wanted him to take me out to dinner?
he took the problem right out of my hands, however. the very next day i caught him staring at me from across the room. i responded with the involuntary "quoi?" fully expecting him to quip back his usual " stop to say what when i look to you!" i was pleasantly surprised when instead, he crossed the room and said "i want to take you to restaurant." my chest instantly filled with dread. i assumed he meant his restaurant, to meet his work friends that we had recently been talking about. he corrected my assumption, stating that the restaurant didnt matter, he just wanted to go on a date.
i agreed, and he took tuesday night off from work. we went to the saint-michel area, which is very hip but also very stereotypically french. he guided me to his favorite street in paris, which was too narrow for cars, slanting to one side from its ancient age, and paved with uneven cobblestones that made walking in heels almost impossible. the street was lined with french restaurants and funky shops. we stopped at one that sold tiny music boxes with haunting melodies. in the middle of the street, undisturbed by traffic or wandering pedestrians, we saw the perfect restaurant. the weather was the warmest it has been since my arrival in paris, so we sat ourselves on the terrace. i nursed my beer while romain smoked and we decided what to order. to my surprise, every plate was at least 20€. my shocked complaints and suggestions we find elsewhere were met only with "if you want, you have. its not a problem, anna." where had the frugal romain gone? where was the boy who claimed five euro for a kebab was too expensive? we ordered, a seemingly endless three course meal. the waitress was beautiful and unbelieveably nice, speaking english when i couldnt remember how to say "medium-rare" in french and romain ordered my veal bien cuit, or well cooked. she made fun of romains pronunciation of tataki, but left my butchering of ordering a simple beer unnoticed.
the bread, however, was sub-par. romain looked at it with extreme distaste, explaining that in france the bread was the most important part. if the bread was bad, it usually meant the entire meal would be bad. i gave him a severe look, said "its just bread, babe," and took a large, comical, bite. he rolled his eyes at my american foolishness as the entree arrived. it was beautiful, had i not been at a restaurant i would have snapped pictures of the entire meal. it was a beef tatki with ponzu sauce and a pineapple-cucumber salad. i like my beef quite bloody, so i loved it. i think romain might have inhaled it. i turned away for just a few seconds, and half the plate was gone! his appetite always surprises me. we both had ordered the veal, which was perfectly cooked, topped with caramelized onions, and paired with a small bowl of french fries. the dessert was the best part. we ordered a creme brulee and fondant au choclat au coeur courant, which is pretty much a fancy way of saying chocolate lava cake. usually, creme brulee is too custardy for me, but this one was perfect. it had just the right mix of vanilla, and a great consistency. i always order the chocolate cake, in every country i have been to. it is quite interesting to see the differences. america has the sweetest, but france has the richest.
sometime during the course of the night romain said, matter of factly, that this was his first time taking a girl to a restaurant. i couldnt believe it! apparently, things are different in the south. if you dont drive, you go out only in groups, usually taking a drink, making food, or seeing a movie. which is all that we have been doing, his normal dating pattern. that night broke the pattern completely. it was so cute, i could see how excited he was to be at a restaurant. at the very end, he fumbled with the check, becoming extremely disappointed when he realized i saw the bill. flashing one of my reportedly blinding smiles, i assured him it didnt matter. we left the restaurant, arm in arm, me struggling gracelessly to navigate the mine field of cobblestones.
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