So I went on a date the other week. She deserved a 9 out of 10. I would have given her a perfect 10, but that number is reserved for the mother of my children. So a 9 is a very respectable number indeed. My date was French, from the (14eme arrondissement de Paris), a year or two (or three) older than me, she worked in financne, was sporty but not in a manish way and liked wine. It was my dream date. She was smart, confident … I was planning to propose to her half-way through our second drink.
Except I didn’t. Not because I got cold feet. Not because we didn’t get started on our second drink but because she didn’t want a relationship.
‘No. I’m not romantic’ she said to me, sipping her drink.
‘Qu’est-ce que c’est?’ I said half-joking, half-shocked. ‘You’re French and you are not romantic?
She giggled and shook her head. ‘Non. Je suis 0% romantique’ and drank some more red wine.
Throughout the night she told me about her four relationships, with… all successful to an extend but none as successful as her career. And then she decontrcucted them to me as if giving a presentation, before concluding with the reasons why she did not want a relationship. Ending with her telling me again ‘not romantic.’
If she was more perceptibe she would have seen that, I myself was romantic. Taking her to this restaurant, ordering the best food and wine, looking like a gentleman rather than a slob in a tie, and speaking French. You try going over your irregular French verbs in the pluperfect tense, before going on a date and tell me that that is not romantic! C’est pas vrai!
And the night continued…
‘I had a good time tonight’ she began. ‘Would you like to…’ she said as we were leaving the restaurant.
I wanted to… but I declined. I couldn’t believe that I decline such an amazing offer from such a gorgeous woman. But why bother? Why become more involved, even if for an evening, with someone who is not interested in a relationship and then yearn for them. Better, decline, keep your value (I am no piece of mean after all) and retain that elusive image of yourself. And the fact that you made yourself unavailable only increase their interest in you and your stocks soar! She works in finance, surely she would know that.
She was upset, but had that French devil-may-care attitude. She pouted, smiled, and kissed me on the check. If anything I would have wanted to keep her in my life, as a friend. Better as a confidant than anything passing. And women like that don’t come along often. But neither do I. And so we had to part way, wondering what could have been in b –her, and in life – me.
Moral of the story. Even if you have a conversation with a French woman, about French wine… in French, it doesn’t mean they’ll like you for anything more than the role they want you to play.
The search for the one… continues…
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