As I sit here writing about things that happened a year ago at a small desk in a chalet in a small village located in the French Alps, you might be wondering how I got here.
I arrived in France with one goal: learn French cuisine at French culinary school. I had zero interest in dating, knowing I was only staying for three months. Maybe you noticed at the end of my last post that I mentioned my date to the jazz club? Well, it was my younger sister who encouraged me to get out there and go on dates, even if it was just a way of meeting new people in a new city and passing the evening in good company (not by myself in my room doing homework, that gets old after a while). Also, what better way to experience food than through a meal shared with someone else?
I downloaded two apps. The statistics are as follows: 2 of the following dates were from Bumble, 2 were from Hinge, and 2 I met in the "wild" aka the real world.
*Some of these outings I've already written into other posts, with more detail, but without mentioning the "date" aspect. It's also worth noting that these are grouped by person rather than in chronological order, to prevent having to jump back and forth between people I went on second or third dates with. Also because I'm avoiding using their names, so it'll get confusing with a lot of generic "he/him/his" floating around. (If you want to skip all the dates that didn't work out, then scroll to the end to see where it went right.)
The first date I went on lasted three hours. I didn't know what I was doing, I coughed through the whole thing because I was recovering from a cold but didn't want to put it off lest he think I wasn't interested. We sat on the (covered) outdoor terrace at a cafe equidistant between our two locations got a couple drinks each. We talked. He was nice- a French lawyer-in-training. It was fine. I don't know if either of us felt any kind of spark. Honestly I doubt he'll ever find this, so I'll say it was kind of boring and I went home wondering if this was what dating was doomed to be. (Spoiler alert, something went right eventually because look at where I am now.)
Valentine's Day was specifically blocked off to spend with my friends because I didn't want to go out with someone I wasn't sure about (and someone did actually ask). It seemed like a lot of pressure. Instead, I put on my Paris Saint-Germain jersey and went with my friend to the wine shop, chocolate in hand, to watch the big football match with dinner, snacks, and wine late into the night. Does a date with a dog still count?
My second date was way more unconventional than the first but a little more successful. I'd been talking to someone for a day or two before we decided "hey, let's meet up!" I said I have an afternoon practical class today, and will definitely have a ton of navarin d'agneau leftovers if you are interested in sharing. The mutual consensus was this was a good idea but we still don't know each other so what can we do that's safe and doesn't involve going to each others' homes (also logistically impossible since I didn't have a place of my own).
In the end, we decided it was warm enough to meet on the banks of the Seine (it was actually not warm enough, but we made it work). I brought the stew, which had unfortunately cooled down by the time we sat down, some silverware, and the bread. He brought dessert and beverages, and napkins with little Eiffel Towers on them.
Neither of us is French- himself coming from the "mighty Guatemalan Empire" (his words, it became a joke between us) to continue a field of study way beyond my comprehension (something engineering related?) and French was his third language. We discovered English was the stronger common ground only after an hour of me stumbling through explaining my own school situation in French.
*I burned my hand at school grabbing the handle of a pan fresh from a 400ºF oven, nothing serious but the wrap kept the burn cream from rubbing off.
He was incredibly gracious about the fact that the stew had lost ALL heat by the time we ate it, claiming it was still better than anything he'd have come up with for dinner. The more embarrassing part was that I had completely forgotten to salt my dish. I fed someone a completely unsalted, cold stew. It's a miracle he still spoke to me after that.
We ended up going on a second date to get real Mexican food, something we'd both been missing since moving to Paris. I can confirm we had a properly seasoned meal that evening. We stayed late, chatting and getting to know one another better, making jokes and asking questions. He texted me a day or two later and said (and I'm paraphrasing here) hey I think you're really great*, but I think it's best we remain friends. To which I pretty much replied, I couldn't agree more I was feeling the same way. After that we got another lunch before I left but it didn't become anything more. I'd still consider him a friend, though we don't really talk anymore!
The dating was yet again put on hold for the Galentine's Soirée hosted by one of my girlfriends. She had some friends visiting from out of town and wanted to capitalize on the moment, so she put together a fantastic evening complete with snacks and bubbles. Sometimes you just need a girls' night in Paris!
My third date I didn't actually realize was a date. Oops. I had actually met this one in the wild. He was visiting his friend at the church I attended one Sunday and since his English was very good, and my French was struggling that evening, we became friends.
In one of our discussions about living in Paris, he mentioned a famous horse show that had recently come to town. Cue several weeks later and he asked if I wanted to go see the show. We arranged to meet one evening after I finished school and grabbed a quick bite to eat in the vacinity (I know, I should have realized, dinner and a show is very date-like) but we had a great time. I specifically remember ordering tartare de bœuf and thinking that the French consistently put a little too many capers in the recipe, and the chopped onions are always large. Not a critique, just an observation. I ate all of it.
Again, dinner + a show + drinks afterwards at a gorgeous bar? He was very classy and definitely knew how to plan a date. I just didn't recognize it until afterwards, when he asked if we could do it again sometime.
We did, in fact, go out again a few weeks later! This time I knew it was a date. He planned a stunning dinner at Le Fumoir. I got to dress up, and we had some delicious food and great conversation in a beautiful setting. We intentionally ordered different items on the menu so we could share and try the most amount of things. I really had so much fun.
Alas, this was ultimately not meant to be either. It was my fault really, he did everything right, but it was me who didn't feel the extra spark.
My next date was a classic. Dinner and a movie! This guy was American, so it made sense that we planned a very American date. I don't think we actually planned to get dinner before the movie, but we were both starving by the time we got there (I had just come from a practical lesson) and there was a burger place right next door.
The movie was utterly abysmal, but it made for great conversation afterwards. I do not recommend Madame Webb to anyone. My date was from the States, but had recently decided to come to Paris to study cinema, so we went out for a drink afterwards to discuss our mutual interest. We ended up going to see Dune 2 on a second date to try and redeem our cinematic experience (it worked, Dune 2 was a masterpiece and great cinematic experience). He was also the date I went with to the jazz club, and we met up for a drink later one evening on a different occasion, but eventually I felt it wasn't quite the right fit.
Honorable mention date: I met someone at school and I eventually asked him to grab dinner with me sometime. After a couple weeks of scheduling conflicts, we both sat down to dinner and agreed it wasn't going to lead anywhere- he wasn't looking for long distance since I was leaving, and honestly I didn't want that either. I hadn't thought about it beyond just going to dinner, so dinner we had, and a drink afterwards. Despite not wanting to date, he still paid for everything and I found him a very interesting person to talk to. No complaints, an overall good time.
Cut to: February 29. It's not even a real day most of the time. I had my final "first date" on February 29. He picked a restaurant near the Seine and Notre Dame. It was raining. He was 10 minutes late due to work.
This date had responded to something on my dating profile and thus I discovered through his own profile that he:
A) Is 100% French
B) Also works in Cinema (animation)
C) Is Catholic (like me)
D) Included a photo of a cow (upon later questioning, he revealed "I think it shows I am fun")
I thought he was cute and easy to talk to (we discovered we're pretty evenly matched in each other's language, which I think is a good thing).
Having since compared notes on this first date, I thought it was "drinks" which is a classic American first date, very noncommittal. I later found out he thought it was a dinner. We sat in the corner on a little couch and chair with a low table between us and talked for hours on only a glass of wine each. Eventually I got up to go to the bathroom and he paid the bill, and walked me to the metro, I learned he lived within walking distance of the restaurant (he gives me a sheepish grin when he tells me this fact) and then kissed me goodnight. I was surprised, I never kiss someone on the first date, but there's a first time for everything!
Our second date was a museum date. We originally wanted to visit the Musée d'Orsay because it hosts free entry on certain weekends every month, but it was full when we checked for tickets so we opted for the Louvre instead.
First obstacle: find each other in the crowd outside the glass pyramids.
With that out of the way, have you ever thought about how interesting it could be to go to a museum with a classically trained artist? (I have some friends who would argue that it depends on who exactly that artist is, but this experience was a positive one.) I believe one of the best ways to get to know someone, how they think, the things they notice, is to do something with them on a date. What better afternoon spent than together looking at art?
For example, I noticed that there was someone wearing yellow in each of the below paintings. He noticed that we were going the wrong way chronologically through the rooms.
I thought, "Wow look at these old ruins!" and he said, "Oh, I've been there! That still exists!"
I think we could have both stayed much longer, wandering through rooms without a map, but eventually we had to admit to each other and ourselves that we were physically incapable of staying another minute. We were starving and mentally exhausted, and personally my back hurt from spending all day on my feet. I picked a cafe nearby that I'd passed before and we sat down for a snack (tea and a slice of chocolate cake each), finally getting to talk more and learn more about each other. The only reason we split ways was because I had to go to 5pm mass, although I delayed as long as possible. I thought it was going well but wasn't sure, but also he was still there and hadn't made his excuses to leave earlier, but maybe he was too polite? He didn't offer to come with me to church.
He invited me to date three- this time at his apartment. He offered to cook if I brought a beverage, so I went over to my friend the wine-shop-owner, asked for recommendations, and was sent away with a bottle in hand.
My personal chef made a hachis-parmentier which is basically a shepherd's pie and absolutely delicious. He didn't let me cook, and instead let me poke around all of his sketchbooks and artwork lying in stacks around the apartment.
After that we didn't see one another for nearly two weeks. I went skiing with my girlfriends and had exams to prepare for!
When we finally met back up, post-exams and for another home-cooked meal, he made steak and I brought dessert.
Date five lasted all day! We made plans to meet for an early lunch at the same restaurant where we had our first date, and then headed over to the Musée Rodin where he pulled out a sketchbook whenever something caught his eye. It was fun to watch the artist at work while also conducting my own personal perusings of the available displays.
Unfortunately it was POURING when we left, so we didn't stick around to see the fabled gardens (we tried, we got wet) and instead made our way back to his apartment. There was a momentary break in the clouds when we emerged from the subways that allowed the sun to poke through and illuminate Notre Dame.
This time it was my turn to cook. Culinary school finished, certificate in hand, I decided to make a... drumroll please... BBQ pulled pork! A culinary feat, I know.
First thing on the list was, obviously, pork. We showed up at the local butcher and asked for pork shoulder and he had to ask twice to make sure he heard properly. Apparently no one in France eats it or knows what to do with it. He had to go pull out the entire pig from the back just to cut some shoulder off for us. Due to my limited vocabulary in the matter, my date was trying to explain to them what we planned to use it for, but since he had no idea what BBQ pulled pork was either I'm not sure what the result was.
Also on the menu:
Mac n' cheese made with real French cheese, mmm.
Green beans (from a can, would be better fresh but this kitchen was limited).
Corn bread (I used polenta, basically the same base and it turned out great!)
Baked beans.
We searched high and low for these beans. Eventually we discovered a singular can in the back of an "American" grocery store (more of an excuse to sell flavor blasted goldfish and Dr. Pepper than anything) and it was "Dr. Pepper" brand baked beans. Unfortunately for me, I later discovered they'd been canned in some version of a Dr. Pepper marinade and I couldn't bring myself to eat them. (Not on principle, no, they just tasted terrible. Too sweet.) My date, not knowing what REAL southern baked beans taste like, loved them. We also bought a bag of flavor blasted goldfish and, his new favorite discovery, a box of pop-tarts.
From then on, with only a couple weeks left in my trip, we saw each other as much as we could for whichever meals we had available or between meals when schedules allowed. He came to say goodbye with my host family when my taxi arrived to pick me up for the airport, and when my flight got cancelled a few hours later, he cancelled his plans and invited me back for McDonalds and a movie (I had to show him The Princess Bride).
He left Paris a couple months after I did to move back home to his little Alpine village which brings us almost up to the present, except there are still 10 months to account for in between. I think that deserves another post for another time, don't you?
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