Dealbreaker: French Guys
Posted by: Leonora Epstein
Filed in:
relationships
11:00AM, Monday December 1st 2008
Just because Paris is the city of love doesn’t mean its men know much about the subject.
Take it from me, someone who spent a year chasing after French men, only to find the pursuit to be disappointing, and at times, disturbing.
I arrived in Paris a few days before my twentieth birthday, full of hope. I was about to spend the next twelve months studying and living in one of the most exciting cities in the world. While I had certain goals in mind—becoming fluent, seeing every museum, and learning how to cook French cuisine—I wanted most of all to find a Parisian lover. I had spent the last two years at Smith College, an all-women’s institution in Massachusetts, not getting laid. There was no way I was going to allow this to happen in such a romantic city.
I couldn’t believe my beginner’s luck when I met a guy after only five days. I had gathered my fellow female classmates for a birthday celebration at a small bar in St. Germain. After they drunkenly sang an obligatory joyeux anniversaire to me, a few guys from across the room approached our table. They were celebrating a birthday as well, would we like to join them? So we did, and I quickly gained the attention of Antoine, a tall, clean-cut guy who I learned was a lawyer for the biggest bank in France. He claimed not to speak English, which I found a bit perplexing—didn’t all French people at least know “Hello, my name is ____,” and “I hate George Bush”?
Between four mojitos and crappy comprehension skills, I struggled to understand much of what Antoine said—until he asked me to go to the Eiffel Tower with him soon. “Oui,” I said.
The next night I met Antoine at the iconic steel giant, and became swept up in the biggest and most clichéd romantic moment of my life. He kissed me at the top, which turned into a furious make out session. Finally pulling back, we decided to go for a drink. As we held hands and walked, I grew curious as to why I didn’t see any bars or cafes. We were on a deserted, residential street when I realized he was taking me to his house. I stopped abruptly and told him I’d misunderstood and wanted to go home.
“Why? What’s wrong?” he demanded in French.
“J’ai mes règles,” I said firmly. I have rules, buddy. I don’t sleep with someone on the first date.
“No, no, come on,” he pleaded. “It’ll be fine.”
“No! Okay? J’ai mes règles!”
I was so angry and disgusted (and a bit scared) that I turned around and ran away.
The next morning, I sat in my host family’s kitchen, sulking over a café and a cigarette.
“How was your date?” my host brother Robert asked.
I recounted exactly what had happened, and he burst into laughter when I got to the “règles” part.
“You know you told him that you had your period? You wanted to say Principes, I have my principles. You said you were menstruating. And he still wanted to do it with you. That’s effed up.”
I was upset about the Antoine experience for about a week. Then I moved past it. It was one guy, right? I would find someone else in no time.
I quickly realized that finding boys wasn’t the problem; it was finding ones without immediate dealbreakers. Aside from the obvious and most common issues—living with their parents and wearing ribbed turtlenecks—I encountered a plethora of problems. There was Jean-Luc, the guy who bit me on purpose when we kissed; Yoann, the jazz guitarist who wore purple linen pants; Laurent, the schoolteacher who just wanted sex and would always text me in all caps even when I asked him not to; and Olivier, a sommelier who only knew three English words: “awesome,” “amazing,” and “crazy.”
It was after I met Marc that I was put off French men for life. When I told him I wasn’t ready for sex, he seemed to think requesting anal was the next logical step. That experience definitely took the cake.
Perhaps it’s just me. Maybe there are women out there willing to put up with guys’ mothers, horrible clothing, and bad kissing styles. Or maybe there are those who just really like anal sex.
If that’s the case, let them eat cake.
TheFrisky.com is part of the Turner Sports and Entertainment Digital Network
Kiki T
wrote on December 1 2008 @ 11:11 am: [report]
waaah, my bff is french and he is the best…but god knows I do feel the pain for his boyfriends
hannaholic
wrote on December 1 2008 @ 03:15 pm: [report]
i’ve been studying in france since august and my involvement with french men has been limited to numerous cases of borderline sexual harassment.
allysin
wrote on December 1 2008 @ 07:37 pm: [report]
It’s not Frenchmen, it’s Parisian men. My boyfriend of two years is French, and I met him while living in Paris.There is a huge difference between men from Paris and men from everywhere else in the country.
smcw321
wrote on December 2 2008 @ 07:26 am: [report]
This is SOOOO TRUE! thank you for writing an article on this, it sounds so familiar, meaning, this has happened to me…with french and spanish men! ahhh europeans.
dollydorkface
wrote on December 24 2008 @ 03:13 pm: [report]
i agree with allysin, based on what you’ve said you went to paris and found those men and there’s more to france then paris but some people don’t get that.
1. you can’t say that about french men, you haven’t had sex with every french man so you really wouldn’t know.
2. you get what you give. if you didn’t plan on having sex why did you have a “furocious makeout session”. if you really wanted respect then you wouldn’t have done that…and thats with all men not just the parisian or french ones.
3. what french men do with foreigners and what they do with french women is completely different. they see french women as romantic, fun, smart, and classy. they’ve dealt with french women before and everyone should know that you might get taken advantage of in a new country, you have to expect that. especially if you’re american…come on!
tatyana
wrote on January 9 2009 @ 08:37 am: [report]
Thats’s funny—I’ve had the opposite experience. I’ve lived in Paris for the past 8 years. I originally planned to just be here for a year, but wound up staying, partly because of the guys. ***On average***, I find them to be much better lovers than Americans (more interested in pleasing you and doing whatever it takes to get you off) and less inclined to play games. If they like you, they have no problem telling you so. I never had to play that guessing game—figuring out whether an encounter is a game or not. The other thing I like is that sports don’t play as central a role in shaping the masculine identity here, so many French men aren’t even interested and I don’t have to put up with constant football/basketball games and talk. Frankly, I don’t think I’m ever going back!
Chelle
wrote on January 9 2009 @ 09:11 am: [report]
@Tatyana-most of the guys I know (all American) have no interest in sports. Then again, most of the guys I know are also musicians. My father grew up in Switzerland (he’s always been American though) and he’s a lot different than men here. In most of Europe, there isn’t so much pressure on men to suppress their emotions. So European guys typically aren’t afraid to say what they’re really feeling and tend to be more passionate about everything. That’s why some movies and shows have the stereotype of the gay French guy. American guys have been taught that being emotional means they’re overly feminine. Hence all the games and the b.s.
Emasaurus
wrote on June 4 2009 @ 12:12 pm: [report]
I dated a french guy, parisian !....obsessed with his dick and narrsasitic and me and my friend were harrassed by italians. but other than that europeans guys seem prettymuch the same as the rest
lepetiteamie
wrote on June 7 2009 @ 11:43 pm: [report]
Oh, it is what it is. I have many girlfriends who complain about their big let down after their visits to Paris. Well I don’t know what they were anticipating. To be swept off their feet by a Jacques, Claude or Jacques-Claude who happens to be a gourmet chef, top-notch conversationalist and world’s greatest lover? Their fault for building them up so much. They’d be better off not glorifying them and treating them with the same cynacism as most Parisienne women do; we can learn a thing or two from them.
From my own encounters with French men (including ones from Paris), it had it’s ups and downs. I met ones who proposed menage-a-trois’ a few short hours after meeting them. I’ve also meet interesting, intelligent ones and one of which demonstrated some pretty jaw-dropping (seeing stars and cows jumping over the moon) sexual technique. The ‘laid’-back attitude towards sex has to have its benefits.
Granted, there are the ones who will serve their bits to you on a platter but you have the option to refuse (and publically shame them).