So, there’s this guy. A Frenchman. I met him at a speed dating night. I picked him, he picked me, and the next day he emailed me to ask me out that weekend.
Our first date was an epic 9-hour date. Verdict: we had a great time! AND I tricked a Frenchman into going on a real “date”. Although my version of a date = dinner and drinks. Whereas this guy’s version of a date (bearing in mind that “date” doesn’t exist in the French vocabulary) = drinks, dinner, drinks, drinks, coffee. Hell, he even wanted to go clubbing but 9 hours was my cut off point.
I guess this culturally different kind of dating is really foreign for a Frenchman. I mean he just wanted the date to keep on going. Which could be due to my irresistible charm, yes. Or due to the fact that he wanted to have a whole set of micro dates in one night so that he would feel like he was acceptably dating someone from his long-time circle of friends.
Anyway, back to the good stuff. He’s clever, funny, has a good job and is HOT. We shared a cab, dropping me off first. And just before I went to bed he sent me a text message wishing me good night. Aww, cute. I think I might be in trouble…