I haven’t been much of a believer in gut instincts until now. I’m one of those neurotic, analytical, thinks-too-much girls who tends to question her reasoning and feelings. But in the past few months, I’ve let go and gone solely on the gut. It’s what made me leave my job in New York and what brought me to Paris (so, thanks, Gut). And last Tuesday night, as I was rushing to my date with TDH (the tall, dark, and handsome Frenchman whom I met through friends), my gut was telling me, “This is not a good idea. This isn’t going to go well.” Keep reading »
Tag Archives: france
I barely felt anything about breaking up with Mr. Cupid until a few days ago. Being back to my old life was great. No more obligations in the evening. Nights slept in my own (much prettier) bed. No more stressing about whatever next “surprise” Cupid would do, that would scare me into thinking his next one would be proposing marriage.
Yet, while I am totally glad we’re over, I did feel a momentary pang of sadness a few days ago, not so much about him, but about the disappointment in not having something be what you want it to be. Why couldn’t he just be a bit more driven and mature? All the things I want in a Frenchman I think I now see in all the couples who get in my way by making out in the middle of the sidewalk while accordions play and kids in berets skip around with ice cream cones.
I’ve completely abandoned online dating. If anyone asked me two months ago about what the difference between online dating in NYC and in France is, I would have said, “Well, in New York, a lot of people do it. And the stigma has really loosened up. France is where NYC was five years ago, so I’m positive that things will turn around with the handful of dating sites here.” Now if you asked me this question, I’d say, “If a guy in Paris is doing online dating, something is wrong with him.” Sorry. But the selection is weak. Keep reading »
The fashion industry has been hard hit by the recession, and it looks like it may take some strategic political partnerships to find the path of recovery. After the collaborative efforts of Fashion’s Night Out, New York City mayor Michael Bloomberg is helping to launch another initiative to help stimulate the fashion economy. This time, it’s a designer contest which will begin next month, reports the Post: “The mayor will stage a competition to pick 12 up-and-coming designers for a new city-sponsored fashion ‘incubator’ facility. The project is aimed at helping New York attract young talent by providing cheap design space.” [NY Post]
My only other relationship with a French guy was a short-lived fling towards the end of my junior year abroad in Paris. Knowing I was leaving soon, we started off light and casual, but a month into things he broke it off. We met up late (as usual) for a drink when he told me, “I’m not in love with you; therefore, I can’t make love to you anymore.” It seemed like the most absurd excuse—since when did hooking up with a girl who was leaving the country in two months necessitate love? Offended, I downed the rest of my gin and tonic, stood up and said, “I’m going.” It was perhaps my most “Sex and the City” moment. God, I was angry.
Up until now, I’d always looked at that experience as the most ridiculous way to break up with someone. Now, in a completely ironic twist, I decided to use the same strategy to break up with Mr. Cupid. Keep reading »
A few days ago, I became convinced that Mr. C had gone on a date with another woman and lied to cover it up. The evidence:
- The morning of the incident, he had logged in to OK Cupid. It had previously been almost two weeks since he had.
- He kept changing our plans, sort of suspiciously. At first, we were to get a drink post-work, around 7:30. Then, he emailed to say that he was suddenly going to have dinner at his friend’s house, which is pretty much in the suburbs. He’d call me between 7 and 8 to set up something for later, around 9:30. Hmm … seemed unlikely to me that he’d make a 9:30 p.m. date back in the center of Paris.
- He didn’t call until 11 p.m. And he always, always calls when he says he will. And, he left his message in English. He always leaves voicemails in French. This one felt off and his excuses seemed rushed and disconnected.
- The next morning, he sent me an email apologizing, explaining what happened. He got very caught up in a game of Scrabble and had lost track of the time. His description of the Scrabble game just seemed a bit too detailed and contrived.
Watch out Internets! The First Lady of France, Carla Bruni-Sarkozy, has just arrived at the party, and man, has she got a few things to say! Just yesterday, Bruni-Sarkozy made her first foray into the online world—and promptly crashed her own site with all the juicy nuggets of inner thoughts and general self-promotion. (Could you image MObama pulling this sort of thing? Barry and the White House press crew would not be happy.) Anyway, as the Daily Mail reports, the French First Lady mostly focuses on what she calls a “beauty contest” between Michelle, Princess Letizia of Spain, and herself—with each woman vying for sartorial and hair/makeup supremacy. Yes, she actually came out with it. And in those terms. What else did she blab about? A few inside-voice observations unleashed, after the jump.
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I can’t believe I have somehow gotten a guy to cook me dinner in my own home, I thought, smiling at Mr. C as he dodged about awkwardly in my petite cuisine looking for knives, having insisted on coming to chez moi to let me relax while he made a meal.
When we sat down to eat, I started to giggle. This had to be not only the most clichéd moment I’ve experienced in Paris, but also the most clichéd moment you’d find in most movies. There I was, sitting down to my table with a view of the Seine, having a handsome French man politely correct my français as he served me a meal, accompanied by an expensive bottle of St. Emillion, and Frank Sinatra crooning in the background.
“What’s so funny?” Mr. C asked, topping off my glass.
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Third date with Mr. Cupid. We were sitting in a bar in Belleville, where I had dragged him to my friend’s spoken word song night. (Yeah. I know. Long story.) But it was there, scrunched in between boho expatriates and enduring the sounds of bad slam poetry, that we kissed. A quick peck initiated by him that turned into a full-out make-out session when we left and had a drink at an outdoor cafe. Coming up for air, I looked at our nearly-drained glasses and back into his eyes.
“So … did you want to get something to eat (we both hadn’t eaten yet), or get another drink?” Keep reading »
You believed French women looked gorgeous naturally, didn’t you? Quel suprise! Airbrushing is causing unrealistic body images and encouraging eating disorders, said a French politician on Monday as she proposed warning labels on digitally enhanced images. Parlimentarian Valerie Boyer and 50 other French politicians want a “health warning” on airbrushed pics. All enhanced photos would be accompanied by this line: “Photograph retouched to modify the physical appearance of a person.” Under the proposal in France, a company that didn’t include the warning on their retouched ads would be slapped with a trés mal fine of a $54,930, or up to 50 percent the cost of the advertisement. The French proposal comes on the heels of a suggestion by British pols for warning labels of their own. But what we want to know is how long until such a proposal comes to the States, where we just love our Photoshop? (And can you imagine what Anna Wintour would have to say about it?) [Yahoo] Keep reading »