je veux que tu sache que t'es trop mimi (pt. 1)

Lately I've been thinking a lot about the "dating" scene in France. I really hadn't given it much thought until I recently got into a discussion with a French person about it, when he asked me to explain what it means to be "dating" someone in the U.S. -- he didn't understand how it was possible to be with multiple people at the same time. Basically, because in the U.S. you can pretty much do whatever the eff you want with anyone until you decide that you're "exclusive" with another person. He didn't understand this concept at all because in France, as soon as you kiss someone who is understood to share the same feelings as you, you're official with them. There's no need to have that painfully awkward conversation about where you stand with the other person. It's a weird concept though, especially coming from a culture where casual make-outs with friends are not that uncommon. Maybe girls in the U.S. are sluttier? Or maybe not. Either way, I think without verbal communication, it's less clear.

It leaves so much to be said... I mean, if you don't talk to someone about where you stand with them, how are you ever supposed to know exactly how the other person feels? And then I got to thinking that in French, there is so much that goes on beneath the surface of the language, so much non-verbal communication that it's really difficult for me to grasp as a foreigner. To me, it all seems so ambiguous -- even the words "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" (mon copain/ma copine) literally translate to "my friend". So, when someone talks to me about their "friend", I'm never quite sure whether they're talking about their girlfriend/boyfriend. How's that for ambiguity? To rely entirely on non-verbal signals is bizarre, even for someone like me who really doesn't enjoy confrontations of an awkward nature.

From what I've gathered about relationships so far has been rather perplexing and it really always depends on who I'm talking to. I know for certain that here, guys must be very persistent with girls -- it's not uncommon for a guy to be turned down several times by a girl before she finally says yes. But I've talked to one person who asserted that French girls are all incredibly prudish and basically wait forever to put out, and someone else who said completely the opposite. So, really... I'm just... Whatever.

So, what I do know is rather limited and most of it comes from my own observations and impressions. Let me explain...

For one, French women are meant to be very passive in terms of approaching guys. Read: French guys will be weirded out if a woman approaches them -- they will see this as a woman making herself very available to him and thus he will think she is only interested in sex. Or they'll just be scared off entirely because god forbid you actually say what you want. I find this very strange, because what is an independent girl supposed to do? Just sit there? The alternative is to be considered promiscuous or too aggressive and that's just unfair.

Another thing is the French (like many Europeans) also have the tendency of going too far with the PDA, which is something I've touched on once already. Hand-holding, totally acceptable. An arm around the shoulder, cute. Embracing each other at a table of twelve other people... Ok, maybe you're crossing the line. But tonsil-hockey at dinner is gonna make me wanna chunder all over you and your matching Longchamps purses. And nobody else seems to notice or care, and I know I'm more particular about this subject than many people, but I really hate PDA. Barf.

One thing I will say for French guys at least is that, on the whole, they are much more romantic and well-mannered than their American counterparts. If an American guy opens the door for you, pulls out your chair, lets you go first, pays for you, even orders for you (...), it means he's into you. Totally. Not. The. Same. Here. Most of the guys I've met do it despite my protestations, even though I know we're only friends. I went to see a film with two guys and they were very weirded out when I held the door open for them and insisted they go first. They exchanged a look of uncertainty and then asked me why I wouldn't let them do it for me. And recently, I was told by one of my students that, at first, he thought I was a lesbian, then later put down my tomboy-ish qualities to cultural differences.

That's pretty interesting, I think it's very telling about the French concept of sexuality and gender. Well, I guess if being a loud, animated, soccer playing, jeans-and-t-shirt wearing, beer drinking girl in France makes you gay, it'll certainly keep the creepy doods at bay.

I have much more on this subject, but I feel I've overdone it with the length this time.... plus, I think this subject needs some more reflechir -ing Stay tuned.

bisous
xx

tout va bien qui finit bien

I love love LOVE this postsecret.

And it's so comforting knowing that there are other people who have also taken this same leap.

la gueule de bois qui a duré une pleine semaine

Whoa, doods. A serious whoa.

Last week I was so incredibly lucky to have a full-week off which also happened to coincide with my birthday which also happened to coincide with a week of amazing weather. So, naturally, I spent the week in Biarritz where one of Isaias' roommates (Charlie) also had a birthday during the same week. Whereas I was celebrating my "twen-teenth-third" birthday (gulp), Charlie was celebrating his 21st which I guess is as big a deal in England as it is in the U.S. So, for the occasion, he invited all of his good friends to stay -- in total, there were eight people in the apartment. Eight insanely crazy hilarious awesome people.

Before all of Charlie's guests arrived, we celebrated my birthday low-key style : a day on the beach, champagne, Italian ice cream, and an absolutely gorgeous and legit Mexican meal. I had no idea how much I missed the spicy!

ooo laaaaaaa siiiiighh

played lots and lots and lots of cards

even swam in the atlantic a little

the amazing chefs, Isaias, Charlie & Tabo. Yeah, I mostly sat back and drank, as per the norm.

On Tuesday, people started arriving for la grande fête we were going to have on Wednesday evening (Charlie's parents even drove down from northern England due to the Icelandic volcano which disrupted the flights out of England) and the next six days are a complete blur of drinking, eating, partying, beaching and celebrating. I didn't even used to be that into the party scene in college, honestly. But we stayed out until four, five, six in the morning every single night. Lemme tell you, these English doods seriously... seriously know how to party.

After spending so much time literally surrounded by people (we slept three people to a bed...oof), it felt so strange coming back to my little studio, all by myself. Plus, I hate saying goodbye to people. No, I don't hate it. I mega-loathe it!

Now I have a week with the parents here, which I'm sure will be the absolute anti-party week that I just had and I'm totally ok with that. The time is also coming for me to make a decision about my future here in France and this is something that I've been continually putting off.... and putting off... and putting off.

Here are the options with some pros (+) and cons (-) that I've added.

· Stay in France and find a real job with more structure and dependability.
    + Improve my French
    + Experience la belle vie
    + No student debt
     - ....uhhh....
· Relocate to England for a masters.
     + Get to be a student again, which I love
     + Experience life in the motherland! 
     - Two words: student loans.
     -  Friggin' freezing cold weather
     - The bad weather counts for two negatives, I think.
· Go back to the U.S. and do.... something.
     + See my friends who have moved on with their lives and/or are engaged/married/knocked up
    - This seems like an altogether terrible idea.



Ummmmmm... Decisions. Help?

xoxo biz biz biz

on peut dire que je suis BAMF

I feel it necessary to share the awesomeness that was 75% of yesterday. One of my student's friends whom I've met once before invited me to play soccer with a group of doods that get together every Saturday just to play casually. I said heeeell yes, but in my head I was thinking "omfg. Am I insane?" Playing with guys is hard enough, but not only that -- I'm foreign and struggle with french... Merde!

I was really nervous when we got there, everyone looked at me incredulously, like "oh, here we go. Some fool decided to bring some dumb broad to play." I should note as well that it is very, very unusual for a french girl to enjoy soccer, let alone play it. I tried to be as enthusiastic as possible, and it helped that my friend let me borrow an old pair of cleats, making it easier to play in.

Well, we got going, and soon after I proved I wasn't completely incompetent, the guys were actually passing the ball to me, for reals. In America, (in my experience) when a girl plays with a group of guys, they all tend to be ball-hogs and real trou des culs because they think they're better. But these guys were really cool! I was also a bit worried about them being more aggressive than I'm used to, but I was shocked because whenever I fell down (which as I'm sure you all know, happens a lot even off the soccer field), they stopped outright and said, "pardon, pardon! Ça va?" and would help me up. Which was great, because while they were apologizing, someone could easily nick the ball off them.

With so many people there, we played 6-on-6 with two games going on at once. Halfway through, we switched teams and took a break and as I was making my way across the field, I overheard someone from  the other side say "that team can use 7 people since they're playing with a girl!" and the doods from my team were like, "no, no! She is really a good player!"

And at that moment, I was so incredibly stoked, so awesomely thrilled, felt like such a BAMF because I actually managed to impress these french guys, that I looked over and gave them the dick-in-a-box gesture -- which, if you're unfamiliar with it, looks a little something like this...

It was a really, really fun day for me, not only because I haven't played soccer in such a long time, but it was such a gorgeous day outside and I felt a sense of belonging, against all odds. I don't mean to sound like an arrogant ass, but that is pretty f-wording AWESOME.

However, if you recall, I said that 75% totally rocked. The other 25%.... was rough. I went out for dinner and drinks later that night with two of my students and their friends and while we were sitting at the bar, I felt my ankle really starting to swell and, by the time we left to go to another location, it was so swollen that I couldn't even stand on it. I really don't remember rolling it during the day, but we did play for three and a half hours, so it's entirely possible. I felt bad, I didn't want to go home but I was in some serious pain. I ended up being driven home early and completely passing out after taking a heavy dose of ibuprofen with some frozen veg on my foot.

Needless to say, today I'm a bit sore. But I'm leaving in a few hours for Biarritz because it's vacation time, nerds.

xoxo biiiiiisous.