I would say ooh la la…
-Grace Potter & the Nocturnals
I love the French. Oui, c’est vrai. I love berets and Paris Fashion Week and Carla Bruni; I’m even taking French to fulfill the language requirement for school (after regretting two years of Chinese and one poorly planned semester of Italian). My love is so apparent that my aunt just sent me this book for my birthday, inscribing on the first pages-
I’m still not sure why this book is quite so très amusant…however, I think they quite let themselves down with the title.
Title aside, the book has inspired me to be “more French,” whatever that means (however it’s most convenient for me at the time). And this weekend, only a few chapters in, the perfect opportunity presented itself to me.
10:00- I arrive at work (AKA a fast food restaurant) on a Saturday morning, very aware of the 9 hour shift that looms over the rest of my day.
10:05- I am placed in the drive-through window (AKA the second window where you normally get your food from) to my glee. It is 73 degrees outside and I feel more alive than ever.
11:20- Every person working grill (AKA where your sandwiches are made) leaves, so I suck up one last breath of fresh air and walk towards my overheated fate.
1:23- I receive a text from a number I don’t recognize, despite having the same area code as my hometown: “.” Yes, that’s correct, the text is nothing more than a period.
1:24- I text back “.” because that’s what would probably happen if I was Anna Karina in one of Jean-Luc Godard’s new wave films.
1:24- I get a call, 16 seconds long, in which mysterious texter (AKA who will be called Jean-Luc from now on) tells me he was trying to text his girlfriend friend and didn’t mean to bother me. I, being casual, laugh the situation off comically and tell him to enjoy his day.
1:25- I get another text from Jean-Luc, this time reading: “u sounded cute but young.lol.”
1:30- After spending a few minutes thinking about how to respond working, I decide to reply with “hahaha how young?” Because WHY NOT. I’m young, I’m more or less Parisian, and there’s nothing concrete stopping me. Let’s do it for the story, I say, ignoring how that saying has never led to a good decision.
1:31- “u sounded under 21 not legal to drink.lol.” Now I was intrigued…who could Jean-Luc be? Some mysterious college student from my hometown who happened to live down the street from me? A successful, recently-divorced lawyer looking for a sugar baby? I was open to many possibilities. Of course, I asked him how old he was in return.
1:35- “40 look way younger and still get carded i.d.” 40?? This had to be a joke. I talked to Jean-Luc on the phone, I heard his voice, I had basically peered into his soul. This guy could not be 40, if for no other reason than he sounded like some freshman frat pledge on the phone. It would seem that I finally reached le vrai derrière un masque.
1:45- “I look way younger,” he promised. A million thoughts rushed through my head. Yes, he was almost my father’s age, but what if he really did look younger? What if our spirits were the same age? As Serena van der Woodsen said on the first episode of Gossip Girl, “You can’t be any worse than the guys I do know.” If Google returns no results, you broaden the search criteria. And besides, it doesn’t get much more Parisian (in my stereotyped mind) than randomly meeting a stranger twice your age over the phone, falling in love, and running off to Bali together to ring in New Year’s Eve. Me laisse pas là , emmène-moi, envole-moi…just call me Charlotte Gainsbourg.
3:34- He asks me the eternal question: “do you like older guys?” Capitalizing on the opportunity to make some real world connections, I respond the way reality television has taught me to: “idk are you rich?”
3:41- Jean-Luc kicks the romance up a notch by requesting, “send a pic of u than I will.” I was initially confused… has he never seen a picture of it before? I thought by my age, certainly by his, he would have seen one already. But I’m not here to judge, of course, so I bite the bullet and send him the best picture I can find in between helping out at work:
3:43- Our love affair is cut short. “since you play games.bye.” Tu sais rien n’est parfait. That was the last I ever heard of him. To my broken heart, it felt reminiscent of Carrie Bradshaw being broken up with on a post-it note. Will Jean-Luc ever think of me? How am I supposed to carry on as though I didn’t just experience a romantic tryst, from beginning to end, in two hours? Do all 40 year-old men think it’s a good idea to text girls who sound younger than 21 on the phone? And most importantly…
What would a character in a French film do next?
In other news, I changed Ninghai’s water today and am now exhausted. Fish are supposedly very low-maintenance, but spending 5 minutes trying to catch him in the little fish net took a lot out of me physically emotionally; I am now a strong advocate for college students NOT being allowed to own pets. I’m still quite fond of him, though, and there’s a good chance that my cacti are still alive.
jessye 