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While we were talking, we ran into a few misunderstandings. That’s taller than most of the women in France.” Imagine my surprise when I found out that it meant “baby” and not “You’re a dwarf.”Obviously, the date wasn’t a huge success. After trying on a couple of shoes, as we say, a couple of men fit better, but things didn’t necessarily become less challenging.
As I went to order a beer, he stopped me and said, “Wait, shorty.” To me, this sounded like the worst insult. I couldn’t help myself from overthinking and panicking a bit after a few months of dating someone here—something I never did in France. Here I’m afraid of discovering that after six months of seeing someone, we aren’t actually dating but just messing around.
Once settled in my single room in Silicon Valley, I decided that I was ready to meet some American men.
To my own surprise, I downloaded Tinder, after getting the sense that this was how it’s done around here.
Then, “cultured” men started to appear, eager to share all their knowledge about France with me.
’”—which is actually the sentence I’ve heard the most since I moved to the US.It’s amazing how the moment a man finds out I’m French, he becomes so eager to relay what he learned from that fateful 2001 song. After swiping left and right for about two months, I had my first date with Andre, a 27-year-old engineer who “has 22 country stamps on his passport.” I thought that my English would be the toughest part of the rendezvous, but I was wrong — that fell to agreeing on the spot at which to meet. I was unclear if this was normal for a first date in America, but in my gut, I knew it was purely an invitation to have sex.To avoid an awkward situation, I simply told him that I wasn’t feeling it.If it was torture for me, but my date seemed to enjoy it.“Mmmmh, this accent…,” he said in a voice that can only be described as pervy.