Ma Biche… Wait What Did You Call Me???

19 May

Lots of goals right now, but one of mine is to continue to ever-expand my French vocabulary. As a result, I signed up for’s French newsletter.

The first newsletter had some standard grammar lessons and a little quiz, but most interestingly, it offered a video of “French Terms of Endearments.”

Oh hell yes.

This is a vital video for all international girls currently living in Paris and/or meeting French men over dating sites. While ardently pursuing you up and down the metro stairs, the Frenchman often lobs many of the words in the video at you, hoping you will turn around and love him. The men on the dating sites will boldly use these nicknames in their first message, leaving you scratching your head why they think they know you.

And yes, I understand there are American terms of endearment that make no sense. Honeybun. Sweetypie. Pumpkin.

But the French seem to have an obsession with farm animals and veggies.

Mon chou (my cabbage): Nothing makes you feel better than being compared to the albino form of broccoli

Ma poule (my chicken): Chickens are not sexy. Period.

Ma puce (my flea): Always happy to be the parasitic insect using your life forces for nourishment

Ma biche (my doe): Just looks like bitch. Just sounds like bitch with a thick French accent

Ma grande (my big girl): This one should definitely occur when your girlfriend tries on swimsuits.

Mon canard (my duck): Uhh…

I would like to suggest some of my own:

Mon calmar (my squid): What? They’re cuddly.

Mon Navigo (my metro ticket): Losing my Navigo would break my heart and trigger addiction-similar panic and symptoms

Ma peniche (my riverboat): You’re not my big girl, you’re my girl who looks like a boat

Mon asperge (my asparagus): You make my pee smell funny

Mon Shtromph (my Smurf): I love you Haribo

Ur Not That Cute (Sorry, text not meant for u).

18 May

On Howaboutwe’s blog, the writers posted an extremely troubling series of text messages from a jilted first date to the recipient, Candice. She had agreed to go on a movie date with him, but then wanted to cut it off because of the lack of attraction. Apparently, her date did not take that information well.

Paris #3 Romance Under The Stars

18 May

Today, Fedora, whom I met in March had reserved a private tour of the Sorbonne observatory for May 18th. This was at first awkward, because by the first date, I knew he was not someone I saw dating further. Although he had a nice smile in his profile picture, he turned out to be shorter and younger looking than me (I am 5’2″ and often can convince movie theaters to give me the child ticket). Needless to say, after the first date, I found it incredibly awkward that he had reserved a second date two months in advance. However, a private tour did sound intriguing.

I am not proud of this, but I left the date on the back burner. I even almost booked a last minute weekend trip to Berlin, not even regretting that I might have to cancel. However, karma seemed to work in favor for this date, because I found myself in Paris with no other plans that Friday night. So I told Fedora I would meet him at Rue Mouffetard for dinner and this tour.

Too bad it turned out to be a great night.

First we met at Rue Mouffetard and he suggested a burrito place called Chido’s.

This turned out to be one of my new favorite places. Earlier in the week, I had wandered past it tipsy and plastered myself against the closed storefront, convinced that the sign “Chido” was just some clever way of “Chipotle” reinventing itself with a new Francophilic name.

While it turns out this resto is not related to Chipotle, I thankfully now have a place that makes made-to-order burritos. Just might get me through until my magical year in the UK where Chipotle gleefully flourishes.

We aren’t even at the tour yet and I am super happy. Talking to Quentin is also such a nice time, specifically because for about seven hours, I get a date entirely in French. Dates in different countries are an absolute must for free language exchange.

We left Rue Mouffetard and wandered around the fifth arrondissement, eventually ending up in front of a building in La Sorbonne. We met our guide, a jolly American ex-pat with a passion for planets and starts. However, in the spirit of things, I insisted on an exclusively French night.

Getting to the observatory felt like that scene in Hitch where so much work goes into getting in Ellis Island. We had a jolly security guard too who took us through the empty building undergoing construction. Had to pass a lot of do not enter signs and climb a bunch of rickety stairs.

We emerged in the cupola, or the rotating tower hosting the Sorbonne telescope. Our guide gave us a quick overview of France’s history in astronomy and then how everything was measured. As I looked around, it struck me how romantic this idea was, and kind of a bit bittersweet when I thought about how much of a friend (not guy I liked) Quentin was. We had a balcony overlooking Paris, an ancient building, and direct access to the stars.

View from L’Observatoire La Sorbonne balcony

La Coupole avec le telescope


The guide opened up the top of the cupola and first directed the telescope to the Eiffel Tower. You could see the people eating in the Jules Verne restaurant. I had such maniacal thoughts about the potential of an ex-boyfriend to find his girlfriend via telescope. It would make a great film. I ended up finding Mars and Venus with the help of the guide too.

As we tried to leave the building, the door at the bottom turned out to be locked. That, coupled with the dark hallways and creaking noises made the building perfect for a horror film. First I had been languidly looking at the stars, now I was searching for a way to escape the same building. Certainly a change of pace.

Above is the dusty handprint a ghost left on Fedora’s back (actually me).

Date-wise, Fedora and I are devoid of chemistry. However, I appreciate his creative planning side and think he will make a great friend. Thanks again OKCupid, bringing new french amis daily!

Stiletto Friend

11 Apr

As in:

“My stiletto friend and I went to the club and there just seemed to be no line and no cover. In fact, I feel like we found some nice guys to share their Grey Goose bottle service as well.”

Some important things to note:

Attire and attitude means there should be no problem with entering any establishment. Stiletto friends are always positive about their night, best friends with bouncers and thrive in thumping music and beautifully-attired people

A stiletto friend is literally in sky-high heels. There are no flats in nights out. Skirts are short, hair is blown out and makeup is impeccable.

A night with a stiletto friend will commence after dinner with a pre-game and end when the sun comes up, or the Red Bull runs out.

There is no such thing as a weekend for a stiletto friend. Going out can relate to any day of the week. Days off may have to be taken due to bars closed for Sundays, holidays or hurricane season.

However, stiletto friends are inherently true friends. They do not backstab, steal their friend’s guy and are generally spotted happily dancing on top of a table.

Stiletto friends can roll with large groups a la college, or be completely functional in teams of two. It only takes a pair of friends.

Stiletto friends are not stupid and will prevent incredibly stupid Spring Break decisions or attempts to leave bars with strangers.

Stiletto friends aspire to kick ass in the eventual Christian Louboutins they will stiletto around.

Days with stiletto friends are necessary between nights of polite, get-to-know-you dinner dates. And who knows? Your best stiletto friend is often the greatest wingman. Maybe the next guy who takes you out you met while out with your stiletto girl.

What Do You Mean I Was on the Bachelor?

11 Apr

This weekend, I was hanging out with Boy and he turns to me and asks,

“Can I tell you something?”

I asked him worriedly,

“Are you alright?”

He said he was fine. Then he continued.

“When I met you in January, I was seeing another girl at the same time. In fact I met her around the same time. When we decided to be in a relationship, I ended it with her. But she was really upset. She cries a lot and texts me too. She’s not over me.”

I tried not to stare at him in surprise, my mind mentally traversing my Google Calendar, working out days where I did not see him, wedging this girl in between my memories of Valentine’s Day and the ball.

I was also dealing with a bit of irony. Ever since I agreed to be monogamous and subsequently  shut down OKCupid, I had number one been struggling with the reduction in new people I met every week and number two, the struggle with whether to admit to Boy I had been going on approximately five dates a week.

I asked him,

“When did you tell her? Was it a huge surprise for her?”

He said,

“Right after we became exclusive, and she did not take it well at all. She is really jealous. She knows about you too.”


I told him I understood where she was coming from, that of course she must be upset. I did admit that a month later might be a pretty long time.

I am also proud of myself that I also told him that before I met him, I had been going on a lot of first and second dates. I told him that I was having a lot of fun with it, that I did not mind being single and running around in my life.

I pointed out,

“I’m not one of the girls who sits around crying in her room, waiting for a boyfriend.”

He said that was one reason he liked me.

We did not talk much about this right after that, but I had a lot to think about that night. The whole time I had been worried about being outed as playing the field, I had unknowingly been in a one-on-one version of the bachelor (without cadres of bitchy girls, cameras or dates in helicopters). My friends have pointed out that it’s good I won, but it’s disconcerting. What was the margin? What was the deciding factor?

For me, my dates were diffused over many different guys. I did not form another intense connection like that where I had to break it off. Even Boy and I are still getting to know each other. It’s just mind-boggling that in order to be with Boy, he had to break someone’s heart.

Part of this is my fault. I just came from college. Real world dating is a HUGE step. When you like a boy at a small university, you know the team/frat/group he is in. You know his friends. You most likely can identify the last three girls he hooked up with when you go to the SAE basement for a party. The world is smaller, and sharing boys is near to impossible. I just need to learn to ask questions or simply be more aware.

And I ask, is this what online dating and reality show dating is doing to us? Are we so focused on playing the field to find the best choice that we leave a trail of rejected suitors who might not even be aware of each other? At least when a knight came and jousted to win a princess’ heart, he could survey the rest of the competition. Modern twentysomethings don’t have that luxury. We frantically search engine for more and more dates, just in case, in a way that we might as well be at speed dating. It’s a zero-sum game with zero-knowledge.

I suppose, thank you for the rose in the end, I just wish I had known this was being filmed.

Granny is My Wingman

1 Apr

If any of you out there are looking for a lighthearted, truthful and just generally online dating blog, I think this perspective is pretty unique. I am almost tempted to call up my Grammy right now, but I am not sure she can manufacture the same one-liners.

The blog chronicles a 24 year-old in Manhattan who began online dating at the same time as her grandmother. She was recently featured on Good Morning America:

Granny is My Wingman


Anyway here is the blog:

Copy and Paste Sushi

15 Feb

So I received this message this morning:

Dude: Lets say you’re taking me out for sushi (for one reason or another)..and i’m starving i haven’t eaten all day…u just got home from the gym and u need to take a shower and get ready, how long until we’re out the door? 

A…30mins and you look hot and i can’t get my hands off you 

B….15mins and you look pretty cute

OR C…2hrs and i die of starvation 😛 

First of all, I really do not understand the purpose of sending a girl this question. It sort of seems like a neg, but is the implication that at the 2 hour point, this girl (me) is really unattractive? The message is a bit out of left field, and I definitely had to furrow my brow when I read it.

Second, and more bizarre, this is actually the third time I have received this exact same message. So this is actually one of these copy and paste messages guys find on a pick-up artist internet dating site and send to dozens upon dozens of girls.  How awkward… Do guys think this is alright? Is it really that hard to type out one or two sentences introducing yourself and asking a question to me? The worst is that these men pull these form answers from websites where guys guarantee results from messages like these. How misleading.  I understand the odds out there are difficult, but come on! I wrote the guy back and pointed this out to him, saying I appreciated a little effort at personalization.

In short, gentlemen, in your search for the online girl of your dreams, please:

Keep it personal

and say no to

Copy and paste

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