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These guys are your classic douchebags and are relatively easy to spot. The French haven’t really wrapped their minds around the concept of “dating” yet. They’ll probably refer to you as their “girlfriend” after the second date, say “I love you” some two weeks into it, and possibly propose to you before a year is up. There’s one technique I’ve experienced a few times that I call the washing machinewhen a guy sticks his entire tongue in your mouth, doesn’t move his lips, and swirls his tongue around in big, circular motions. But they’re also not afraid to drink a Cosmopolitan in public. Obvious bonus: an accent so hot that they can read the small print on a beer bottle and make it sound sexy. A French man’s personal style is very uniform-y, and he tends to have a closet filled with variations on the same outfit.But if #3 is any indication of how they’re catching up, I’d advise you to act now before they figure out that dating five girls at once is an unfortunate common practice in America. Good news for you if he’s into basic jeans, cashmere sweaters, and well-cut blazers. Even if it seems like they’re not feeling it, it’s definitely possible that you’ll still end up having the romantic French encounter you’ve always (not-so-secretly) wanted. Others were rather quiet and aloof and then would make their move with an unmistakable gesture—either going in for the kiss at the end of the night or asking for a second date right away.It is so funny to see how some social behaviors are exactly the same between France and the US, and others are completely different. Well, this was a big shock to me when I arrived in the US. I understood of course a man and a woman could be interested in each other in a romantic way, let me reassure you.One of the very obvious difference is the dating game. But I was not aware that accepting to go out to dinner with a man alone gave the signal that I was possibly romantically interested in him." Inevitably, the conversation turns toward common memories and shared experiences.We find ourselves speaking freely about friends we didn't know we had, Presidents we're too young to have ever voted for, and the company we keep in foreign places.
A few of mine include nighttime walks in the rain along the Seine, being kissed on a bridge with the Eiffel Tower behind us, riding around the city on the back of a scooter, and strolling hand in hand on the love lock bridge.
Then, just as quickly, the magic is gone and we are once again strangers., many have a hard time "placing" me.
Countless nights out have included me—a Jersey tomato—speaking French with an exaggerated Southern accent as a comic rebuttal to "I don't believe that you're American." (Trust me, it's a lot better than trying to get a 4-Amstel-Jean-François to explain his reasoning.)Still, it's a strange feeling being a Black American in Paris.
Bad news if he belongs to the tribe of baggy linen pants and ribbed turtlenecks. You’ll have the pleasure of explaining particularly American concepts such as Snooki, Shamu, Spring Break, Texas and Pizza Bites. He’ll comment on your outfits (positively) and discuss style in general more than an American boy might. He’s probably well-traveled considering that living in France allows you the advantage of hopping over to Italy or Spain for a weekend. Unless he magically learned English from watching episodes of : Angry/hungry, happiness/a penis. He’ll probably do all he can to give you respect and treat you like a princess.
I tend to find these confused moments to be hilarious and endearing.
When I announced my move to the City of Lights, nearly everyone mentioned Josephine Baker, perhaps the most prominent example of a Black woman surrendering to Yet, it isn't quite that simple.