A Date with a Parisian

I won’t kiss and tell. Mostly because there wasn’t any kiss.

That doesn’t mean it didn’t go well.

I met this man on the subway; I was eating a croissant and checking my BlackBerry while suffocating between the stiff jackets of two businessmen on the morning commute. Suddenly I looked around and noticed that no one else was eating—or doing anything. The French take time for food, and they hate the metro. My morning activities were clearly branding me as an étranger.

The epiphany startled me. As casually as possible, I wrapped my croissant back up and slowly, stealthily slipped it into my bag. In the same deliberate motion, I slid the BlackBerry into my coat pocket. Maybe no one noticed?

Wrong. The young man behind me started laughing, and then spoke (in French): “It’s ok, you can eat on the metro.”

“But no one else is!”

“Lots of people do. It’s just too early for the French.”

So it wasn’t the act of eating that gave me away, it was the timing. Figures. I’ll simply never understand the French.

Anyways, this young man gave me his card and invited me to lunch—scheduled for today. The first thing I did was ask how he knew I wasn’t French, if the behavior was appropriate and the timing was the only thing that was off.

“Because you smile. The French don’t smile on the subway.”

This is the third time since my arrival in Paris I’ve been instructed not to smile. For those of you who know me, you know this simply isn’t possible. I walk to down the street grinning ear-to-ear…and often pay for it. Clearly some things are no different here.

The date itself was brief, rushed, fun. (He had a meeting at work to return to.) He talks a lot. I was most startled when he begged my pardon for the Parisians, because “they can be so rude.”

He’s not the first to apologize on behalf of his people. “Everyone’s always saying that,” I explained. “I’ve never had a problem. The French have been nothing but wonderful with me.”

He nodded. “That’s because you’re beautiful, and you speak French.”

I rolled my eyes.

“It’s difficult though, because you never know if they’re being nice because they’re nice people, or if they’re being nice because they want something more.” This was true. Then he continued, “I mean, I am very beautiful, so I have this problem a lot.”

I laughed, as I figured he was joking. I’m not sure he was.

As we were saying goodbye, he concluded by giving me presents/homework/CDs to “learn the culture. We can discuss over dinner on Wednesday.” And with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

I later received a text with further instructions for time and place.

Ah, the French think they’re just so smooth. ;)