But just as I was finishing my internal pep talk, she asked, “Would you like to come to the theater with me tomorrow? I have an extra seat, and I would love to see you again.”Excuse me? This gorgeous girl from Brittany who was taken to a terrible restaurant that gave her food poisoning then had to walk through the cold making dull conversation wants to see me — the idiot who orchestrated it all — again?
“Ummm…I’ll text you.”“Okay,” she smiled, before driving away. It would’ve been too cruelly awkward, but these kinds of surprises, in which I find myself on entirely different wavelengths with French women, aren’t actually that unusual.
years ago that I went on my first date with a French girl.
She was from Brittany and thus had one of those terribly sexy accents that American tourists are always trying to imitate (“Eet woood be a plezzure to join yoo for deener”).
Often though, it’s the other way around, where I’m the one who thinks the evening went well when my date probably wished to never to see me again.