Romantic Frustrations of a Foreigner
I know I promised the details of my new Amour this letter, but before I disclose them, I must say a few more words regarding my difficulties with the French courting system.
So I learned my lesson after two frightening experiences with dragueurs, both recounted in my last post. I spent a few hours practicing an intimidating "Non, Merci!" (No thank you!) and "Laissez-moi tranquille!" (Leave me alone!) as well as a few harsher phrases in my mirror, but I must have mastered the icy mask expression because I have not been approached by any strangers since that last occasion. A Frenchwoman told me and my friend Daniela that when men bother me I must look at them with utter indifference and say in a bored, annoyed (though not angry--that provokes them) voice, "Quoi?" (What?). I'm not sure that her mannerisms can be properly conveyed over the internet, but when I get home you will all get an expert performance.
What is surely the most frustrating thing about being in the position of a foreigner interested in romance is that there is very little one can do to educate oneself on the social cues and norms of French dating. I already mentioned the insufficiency of my sociological text, though certain other texts seem a bit more useful. You may have heard of the novel (though the author may prefer the term "dramatized history") of A Year in the Merde, which is the story of an Englishman's first year working in Paris. Now naturally there are the differences between myself and the protagonist as far as age (he's 27) and profession (mainly that he has one), but I find that the crucial difference between us as far as romance is concerned is that of sex. This is an appropriate phrase in two senses: 1) we are of two different sexes, male and female (myself being the female), and 2) being a man, he is therefore stereotypically focused on having as much sex as possible with attractive French women. Perhaps that is a bit harsh, but I think those who have read the book to the point that I have (only through Nov, thus far) would agree. But despite its uselessness as an applicable guide for my French love life, I recommend it highly as a very, very funny book.
Back to French Dating 101:
If there are subtle, unspoken interactions going on between men and women (or women and women, as my audience is anything but heterocentric), my American eyes are too dull to catch them. The proper way to flirt without being brazen or coming off as easy still escapes me.
And asking advice is absolutely no help at all! My host parents are very helpful when I want advice on how to avoid men or refuse an advance (though I wish I'd had said counsel a bit earlier...), but I have no idea how to accept an advance or how to tell if a guy is worthwhile or creepy. Or what if I'm not sure? Is there a way to indicate that I am interested in a casual, non-committal date without inviting "incidents" like those I described before? Must I refuse him, just to be safe? Because if a woman gives the slightest hint that she could possibly be interested, the French seem to view it as the woman's own fault if she is pursued to the point of stalking. The attitude is almost one of, "well, you smiled in public, so you must surely have known that three men would follow you to your house and insist on dating you. You should not have smiled in the first place."
To be perfectly honest, the attitude annoys me. I never realized how much power American women have until I came here. I just feel entitled to having a man respect my wishes when I tell him that I'm not interested. I feel entitled to safety from men harassing me when I venture out on my own. --Don't get me wrong, Paris is a very safe city and the most I ever feel is extremely pissed. I don't feel I should worry for my safety so long as I pay attention and don't do anything stupid. But the French philosophy is that women must protect themselves by venturing outdoors only with other women, because men cannot but pursue a woman alone.
And the pursuit is not in the least bit flattering or enjoyable here. Men look at attractive women (and they're all attractive) so boldly, just staring at whatever body part they happen to favor as a girl walks by. They hit on n'import qui (no matter whom), so if a man approaches you, it is not because he's noticed something particular to you that makes him want to make your individual acquaintance; it's because you're a woman and not repellent. And that's all. And as soon as you walk away he will begin to look for another not-unattractive woman to hit on. It's just tiring and frustrating to be seen as a desirable object instead of an attractive person. Maybe I'm mistaken in thinking that American men are any different (no offense meant to the men on this list), but if I am then at least American men are better at disguising it. Which is to say I'm more used to the American game, really, from a sociological perspective. But I'm a bit homesick for American men, so I desire anything but objectivity.
I am grateful to have found a romantic interest to distract me, but alas! I fear this post is too long already and I will just have to postpone description of my sweetheart yet again. It's too important a subject to deal with hastily and in too cramped a space. Patience, my friends!
So I learned my lesson after two frightening experiences with dragueurs, both recounted in my last post. I spent a few hours practicing an intimidating "Non, Merci!" (No thank you!) and "Laissez-moi tranquille!" (Leave me alone!) as well as a few harsher phrases in my mirror, but I must have mastered the icy mask expression because I have not been approached by any strangers since that last occasion. A Frenchwoman told me and my friend Daniela that when men bother me I must look at them with utter indifference and say in a bored, annoyed (though not angry--that provokes them) voice, "Quoi?" (What?). I'm not sure that her mannerisms can be properly conveyed over the internet, but when I get home you will all get an expert performance.
What is surely the most frustrating thing about being in the position of a foreigner interested in romance is that there is very little one can do to educate oneself on the social cues and norms of French dating. I already mentioned the insufficiency of my sociological text, though certain other texts seem a bit more useful. You may have heard of the novel (though the author may prefer the term "dramatized history") of A Year in the Merde, which is the story of an Englishman's first year working in Paris. Now naturally there are the differences between myself and the protagonist as far as age (he's 27) and profession (mainly that he has one), but I find that the crucial difference between us as far as romance is concerned is that of sex. This is an appropriate phrase in two senses: 1) we are of two different sexes, male and female (myself being the female), and 2) being a man, he is therefore stereotypically focused on having as much sex as possible with attractive French women. Perhaps that is a bit harsh, but I think those who have read the book to the point that I have (only through Nov, thus far) would agree. But despite its uselessness as an applicable guide for my French love life, I recommend it highly as a very, very funny book.
Back to French Dating 101:
If there are subtle, unspoken interactions going on between men and women (or women and women, as my audience is anything but heterocentric), my American eyes are too dull to catch them. The proper way to flirt without being brazen or coming off as easy still escapes me.
And asking advice is absolutely no help at all! My host parents are very helpful when I want advice on how to avoid men or refuse an advance (though I wish I'd had said counsel a bit earlier...), but I have no idea how to accept an advance or how to tell if a guy is worthwhile or creepy. Or what if I'm not sure? Is there a way to indicate that I am interested in a casual, non-committal date without inviting "incidents" like those I described before? Must I refuse him, just to be safe? Because if a woman gives the slightest hint that she could possibly be interested, the French seem to view it as the woman's own fault if she is pursued to the point of stalking. The attitude is almost one of, "well, you smiled in public, so you must surely have known that three men would follow you to your house and insist on dating you. You should not have smiled in the first place."
To be perfectly honest, the attitude annoys me. I never realized how much power American women have until I came here. I just feel entitled to having a man respect my wishes when I tell him that I'm not interested. I feel entitled to safety from men harassing me when I venture out on my own. --Don't get me wrong, Paris is a very safe city and the most I ever feel is extremely pissed. I don't feel I should worry for my safety so long as I pay attention and don't do anything stupid. But the French philosophy is that women must protect themselves by venturing outdoors only with other women, because men cannot but pursue a woman alone.
And the pursuit is not in the least bit flattering or enjoyable here. Men look at attractive women (and they're all attractive) so boldly, just staring at whatever body part they happen to favor as a girl walks by. They hit on n'import qui (no matter whom), so if a man approaches you, it is not because he's noticed something particular to you that makes him want to make your individual acquaintance; it's because you're a woman and not repellent. And that's all. And as soon as you walk away he will begin to look for another not-unattractive woman to hit on. It's just tiring and frustrating to be seen as a desirable object instead of an attractive person. Maybe I'm mistaken in thinking that American men are any different (no offense meant to the men on this list), but if I am then at least American men are better at disguising it. Which is to say I'm more used to the American game, really, from a sociological perspective. But I'm a bit homesick for American men, so I desire anything but objectivity.
I am grateful to have found a romantic interest to distract me, but alas! I fear this post is too long already and I will just have to postpone description of my sweetheart yet again. It's too important a subject to deal with hastily and in too cramped a space. Patience, my friends!
posted by FannieGirl @ 7:16 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home