An Off-the-Cuff Marriage Proposal

So, my Egyptian-Italian friend almost propsed to me last week. I guess you could call it a pseudo-proposal. Or a mostly-proposal. I don't know. A partial proposal? I don't have much to compare it to.

This:
"I would marry you--I'm ready. Would you accept me as your husband?"

Followed by:
[shocked--but brief--silence]
"I'm sorry, but no. I can't marry you. I want to be married in the temple of my church so I can be with my husband for eternity. That's what I've wanted since I was a little girl, and it's something I'm not willing to give up--not for anyone."


This led to a brief discussion about my belief (and his hesitancy to believe) in an afterlife. This is where the language barrier gets really annoying. It's hard enough for two people who speak a common language fluently to be on the same page (and I don't mean agree--I mean wrap their mind around what the other person is saying and understand where they are coming from) in regards to things like an afterlife or eternal marriage, but throw in the fact that I speak French at the level of... let's say... a 5th grader, and it becomes a little more challenging.

So, all in all, last Wednesday was supremely surreal.

Friday, Yesterday and Today

Friday:
-I followed through with the hang-out that was arranged on Thursday at Institute. If you were going to guess what happened and you hypothesized, "He probably pressured you into dating him, wondered why you weren't interested, tried his very best to manipulate the situation (even though you're an expert at blocking such attempts) and then said things like, 'Well, I don't want to pressure you.' and 'Maybe tomorrow you'll text me and say you changed your mind.'" you'd be right.
If you thought that maybe after that I would make a promise to myself to ignore all of his texts and calls, you'd also be right.

Yesterday I:
-went to the market and bought lovely produce, but forgot to get meat so I could make stuffed tomatoes and round zucchini today. Heirloom tomatoes, just so you know, cost 2.50 each here. ouch.
-bought some cardigans
-went on a date with the Egyptio-Italian and saw a funny movie called "Le Missionaire" about an ex-con who pretends to be a priest to get away from some "old buddies" that are out to get their share of whatever money he is supposed to have (and no, it's nothing like Sister Act). Also got crepes and saw the market at Port de Clignancourt for the first time. Wow. That place is crazy.
-got home late

Today:
-I got to church on time! Early, actually.
-Told the Sister missionaries about my random boy conversations of the week. They love hearing the stories as we walk to teaching appointments and wait for church to start.
-An investigator that I've been helping the sisters teach came to church with her two daughters today (and on time! No small feat for a single mom with two kids under the age of three that has to rely on public transit)! Huge forward progress for an investigator who wasn't progressing. And while she was getting her daughters ready to go at the end of church, she was talking to them about "next week at church" like it was the most natual thing in the world. Yessssss.
-Entertained said daughters during sacrament meeting
-Also manned the nursery today during RS and Sunday School. Bilingual nursery is kind of crazy, but awesome.
-I might have downed a whole (and not tiny) tart with zucchini, tomatoes, creme fraiche and mozzarella like it was a personal pizza
-I discovered that I lost 6 pounds over the last month. Go figure. (Factoring in that tart, well... maybe 5 pounds.)

So, tomorrow it's back to school and work for 4 days and then... I'm off to Frankfurt, Germany with the YSA's for a long-weekend temple trip. Suh-weet! I haven't been to the temple since January. Can't. Wait.

For Your "Listening" Pleasure

Just had the following conversation: (sorry, it's kind of long)

Him: You've changed a lot. Looks like your vacation did you some good.
Me: Oh, really? Hm. I don't know what could have changed, but you're the second person in three days to tell me that.
Him: Yeah, you're even more beautiful than before.
Me: (Blushing) (Thinking: Seriously? How is it possible that people say things like this??)
Me: Ummm... thanks, that's nice.
Him: So, we should hang out this weekend. What do you have going on?
Me: Well, I'm busy Saturday night, so what about tomorrow?
Him: Okay.
we discuss the details of this...
Him: You have such a beautiful smile. You should share it with me.
Me: Umm... what?
Him: You should share it with me.
Me: (Thinking, "Okaaaay.). *Big smile in his direction.*
Him: You know, share.
Me: (Confused. Didn't I just grin at you?)
Me: I don't understand.
Him: You know. Share. Like if I have a glass of water, and mine is gone, you give me some of yours. Share. (He's almot yelling now, like that will help me understand the meaning of this very basic concept. I promise, fella, that's not the problem. I KNOW what the verb partager means.)
Me: (Great. He thinks I'm retarded. How am I the one who gets the toddler-style explanation in this conversation?)
Me: Okay.
Him: (Apparently needing to change subjects...) You're so beautiful. I should marry you.
Me: Uuummmmm... (can I un-do our date now? Remember two seconds ago when we had a really wierd communication problem? Let's not get married.). Sorry, that's not going to happen.
Him: Why not?
Me: (Seriously?) Because I am not looking for romance right now. I'm leaving in two months, and long-distance doesn't cut it for me.
Him: But what if you fell in love?
Me: (At this point, almost trying to squash any remaining hope.) Well, I don't fall in love easily or quickly.
Him: Oh. Okay.


First, enough with the wierd marriage comments. I find it to be a big turn-off that a) you think you want to marry me already and b)that your comment about marriage was directly related to a comment about my beauty. That's not a good enough reason to get married.

Second, it makes me feel really awkward that you keep talking about how beautiful I am. And it makes the compliment much less meaningful. I'm glad you think I'm pretty. But ease up a bit, because I still need to learn to gracefully take compliments.

Third, I insisted this evening that I am only looking for friendship. So, let's stick with the plan.

Walks along the Seine, Laughing in the Rain...

Okay, so I'm not in Mama Mia, and it's not summer (and P.S., I hate the terrible rhyme in that part of the song. Just for the record, the Seine rhymes with TEN, not with RAIN).


But I did walk along the Seine today with my Egyptian friend. It was beautiful and picturesque. The conversation was... interesting, to say the very least.


We talked about love. For him, this naturally led to talking about sex. Which for me, naturally led to talking about the Church.


My stance on pre-marital sex is really a difficult concept to explain in my limited French. Specifically, it's challenging to really explain the motivation in clear enough terms. Saying I won't have sex before marriage is simple enough. It's answering the follow-up "Why?" and "What?! WHY???!!" questions that requires more vocabulary than I've got in my arsenal. In English, no problem. But in French, uh... yeah. Problems.


He has a pretty typical view of love and sex, and he was verrrrry confused and a bit surprised by my position on the matter. My inability to clearly express myself didn't help the situation, I'm sure.





After recovering from the shock, he was actually really respectful about it. He just kept asking questions to get a feel for the "boundaries," if you will. And he kept shaking his head, not understanding how I could live 28 years... without. Ha. I just told him it's easy to go without something when you don't know what you're missing.

picture from Flickr creative commons

You'd Be So Proud

Today on my way into the city center, I was quietly reading a book on the RER, and some random guy comes and sits across from me. It was weird, because here no one sits on the same row as someone else unless there is at least one person occupying every single row on the train. At this point I'm keeping a really close eye on my bag because I'm half expecting him to snatch it and run away at the next stop. But no. He turns to talk to me. He asks where I'm going, and I say, "To school."
"So, you're going to the St-Michel station?"
"Yes." (Getting creeped out and feeling slightly stalked.)

Then he says, “So, can we see each other again?” I figured I must have heard him wrong, so he has to repeat himself twice for me to realize that yes, I mostly understood, and that is in fact what he was getting at.

“Umm… no. That’s nice, but no.”
“Why?” (What the--? Isn’t “NO” enough?)
“Well, because I’m really busy.” (I almost said, “And because I said no, and that should be good enough.” But I didn’t.) (And also, because we never really SAW each other in the first place. You stalked me on the train. That's creepy.)
I turned back to my book. He stayed in the seat for about ten more seconds and then walked off in a huff, muttering under his breath.

Seriously, did he think I was going to melt at his feet? Lame, that’s what that is. Pure lameness.

But aren't you proud of me? I feel like I had a breakthrough.

I Surrender

I think maybe it's better to just forget trying to "make friends" here.

Over the past several weeks I've been playing email tag with a "friend" from institute. He will randomly call, and I tend not to answer my phone here, because the caller ID doesn't work, and I have a hard time memorizing everyone's phone numbers. So then I'll get an email like the one I got tonight:

hi i really dont get you,i write before you try to get something to say.well if yoyu think i bother you with massages [edit by Sarah: messages] pls let me know and do take care ok


Frankly, this just makes me mad (the part of it that I can understand, anyway), because the last email I sent to him was:

Hi, [insert name here]!I was wondering where you disappeared to last week because I haven't seen you.Are you coming to institute tonight?We should do something Monday night, if you still want to. The rest of this week is really busy for me with work and Stake Conference.Talk to you later,Sarah

So, that doesn't really seem like a brush-off, right, especially since I suggested a specific day to get together, not just "let's hang out sometime?" I don't know what he's getting all bugged about.

Leave the drama at home, boys. Or I'm throwing in the towel and only hanging out with girls. Or boys from Utah (boys from Utah = committment issues = no drama for Sarah). Or guys who already have a significant other.

A few Awkward Conversation Snippets

Him: Do you like kids?
Me: I love kids.
Him: Do you like playing with kids? (This question was asked as I was answering the first one).
Me: Yes. I have two nephews and a niece, and I love to play with them.
Him: That's good.
Me: Yeah, where I'm from people tend to have a lot of kids.
Him: Really?
Me: Yeah.
Him: How many do you want?
Me: It depends. Two, probably. Maybe up to five depending on my husband and when I get married.
Him: Wow. That's a lot.
Me: Yeah... there are only three in my family. But my neighbor has 12 kids. (Take that).

About two hours later...

Him: If I came to Utah and we had kids, we would only have two.
Me: (thinking: What the H***? Do not pass Go, do NOT collect $200. We would have to do a lot more than eat Lebanese food to have children.)(and, P.S., have you ever even HEARD the word compromise? What about bossy? Chauvinistic?)
Me: Ummm... that's not gonna happen. (Seriously? Are we married already in your mind? Is this what Mormon guys feel like when they go out on dates? I'm starting to have sympathy pains.)

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Him: Are there a lot of Indians where you're from?

Me: (thinking: Classic. Yep, and my father is a cowboy. As a matter of fact, we're ranchers. We have a vast plot of land where we herd cattle.)

Me: You mean, the Indians that were the original people in America? Or people from the country India? (I must give him the benefit of the doubt, after all.)

Him: American Indians.

Me: There are some, but I haven't seen a lot of them in my city specifically. I do know a few, though.

Him: I would love to talk to some of them. You know, they are very in tune with nature. They have a lot of respect for nature. I watched a lot of westerns when I was little.

Me: That's great. Yeah, I think Native Americans do have a lot of respect for nature and the Earth, which is wonderful.

Him: Yeah, it's really important to respect the earth and natural resources. To not be wasteful.

A few minutes later:

Him: Do you think I could rent a horse if I came to Utah? Then I could ride it in the mountains.

Me: (laughing on the inside). Oooh, you know what? I don't know that you could. Actually, come to think of it, I believe there are places where you can rent a horse to take up into the mountains.

Him: I would love that.

Me: Uh-huh. (What on earth do you think Utah is like?)

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Me: (casually, as part of our normal conversation while he walked me home) Yeah, I'm not really looking for any kind of relationship while I'm here. I hate talking on the phone, so keeping up any kind of long-distance relationship would be a complete waste.

Him: Yes, I completely understand. I remember you told me you don't like to talk on the phone.

Five minutes later, by my elevator

Him: Can I come up?

Me: No.

Him: Ummm... okay.

(So, when you said, "Yes, I completely understand." what you actually meant was, "I hear the words you're saying, and I know what they mean," not "Yes, I completely understand how you feel and I will respect that.")

--------------------------------------------------------------------

That's it for now, folks. I don't know whether or not I'll be surprised to hear from him on Monday.

Believe me, if I wanted a salad...

A couple of quick points before I get to the story:

I feel very awkward when someone repeatedly tells me I am beautiful. (And I mean VERY awkward. Tell me once each time you see me and we're good. Then drop it.) Actually, it's the same with any compliment. If you must tell me more than once, keep it to once each time we see each other. Not once every five minutes.

I also feel awkward when someone (ahem. a boy I'm on a date with, maybe) invites me to order a salad, and then invites me to exercise with him the following Sunday afternoon.

Put two and two together, and this is what I hear, in all of my self-conscious splendor:

"You're so beautiful. Really. Very beautiful. I don't understand why you don't already have a boyfriend. A beautiful woman like you. But really... you could go without all those carbs. Eat this lettuce instead. And a good hour-long run wouldn't hurt, either. I promise it will be fun. While we're on the subject of fun, can I come up to your apartment?"

Hmmm, let me think about that for a second. Um, no. You can't come up to my apartment. Ever.

But it was a good try. Kind of. Next time try to go without all of the hints at dieting. Otherwise I'll develop a serious complex and then we won't be friends anymore. Because frankly, I might not be a supermodel, but I respect myself enough to not put up with crap like this, should you decide to continue in this fashion. The outcome, at this point, entirely depends on you.

Man, I wish I could talk to people like this in person!!

A couple of years ago,

I had a conversation with a friend of mine that had a really big impact on me. I honestly don't remember what it was about. But the one thing I remember about the conversation was that he didn't ever (seriously, not even for two seconds together) acknowledge or consider my opinion. And we were talking about ME, so I was kind of surprised and annoyed by that.

I remember enough of the conversation to tell you that I was explaining my feelings about something--and not politics, or business, or anything globally important, but just feelings about things in my life that were personally affecting me, and my opinion about how to react.

I can still recall exactly how frustrating this conversation was to me, because I expressed how I felt, and then he responded in a way that completely ignored everything I had said. I felt like he hadn't even listed to what I just finished telling him. So I tried again, really trying to emphasize what I thought were the important feelings I was having and the decisions I was making.

And once again, he completely ignored what I said and just restated his opinion of what he thought I should do or how I should react. But in a really "oh, aren't you a little slow on the uptake today?" kind of way, like I was apparently having a really hard time wrapping my mind around it.

I felt like I was talking to a wall of chauvinistic superiority.

I absolutely think the world of this friend of mine, but I could never date or marry someone who treats me that way, even inadvertently. (Especially then, because then he wouldn't even know he was doing it).

I feel like I should somehow come with a disclaimer that says something to this effect:
If you can't give me enough respect to acknowledge the things I say, even if my opinion or my approach is different from yours (or if you think you 'wear the pants' in the relationship and therefore have a more weighty opinion or more of a say about MY LIFE), then I can't respect you enough to give you my time at all. You don't have to agree with me. I don't always have to be right. Just don't treat me like I'm stupid because I have an opinion of my own that doesn't happen to align perfectly with yours.
Does that make me sound bitter and cynical? Sometimes I think I am bitter and cynical, but then I remember that I deserve to be with someone that I can have a mutually respectful, cooperative, loving relationship with where we are both willing to listen and compromise.

That's not too much to ask, is it?



And yes, if you read the other post I just did, they are absolutely related.

Walk Like an Egyptian (or just go out with one)*

So, yesterday I went out with an Egyptian-Italian** guy. We went to a cafe and had some Coke (me) and mint tea (him) before my French class, and then the plan was to go get Lebanese food after my class was over.

But, poor guy, all things conspired against him, and one thing after another went wrong. So, we ended up at a random sandwich/crepe joint in the Bastille area. Ending up at a sandwich shop didn't bother me in the least.

What DID bother me was that he told me I could choose anything I wanted, and then when I picked a ham sandwich with egg slices and vegetables, he asked me if I was sure I didn't want a salad.

Ummm. Yeah, I'm sure. I saw the salads, and I don't want one.

Me: No, a sandwich is good.

Him: You're sure? You could get a sandwich and a salad...

Me: No, I'm fine.

Him: You're sure? Salads are really good for you.

Me: No way, really? I'm 28 years old for crying out loud. I know what salads are. I know they are good for me. But I'm really [insert favorite (pseudo)swear] sure I don't want a salad. (Okay, so this part happened in my head. But if I spoke French well enough he would have felt the burn of my sassy sarcasm.)

Me: (Out loud) No, I'm fine with a sandwhich. *Encouraging smile.*

Him: Okay.

And he ordered a panini. No salad.

___________

Stay tuned for more awkward conversation snippets.

*This post is obviously not intended to portray Egyptians, Italians, or sandwich joints in a negative light. I'm absolutely not inferring that this is a widespread character flaw in people of any culture, I'm just talking about this one person.
**Who, as it turns out, ended up being Algerian. He told me he was Egyptian-Italian because he thought I would think he was a terrorist. Ummm... okay.

Bought a Sugar-Lemon Crepe on Tuesday.

It was deeeeeelicious.
And it came with a bonus gift, too!




Have a great day, everyone!
:)

Questions in Etiquette

Wednesday night I went to the cafe across the street to grab a Coke and do some homework. I had a late (as in 11:30 pm) conference call with a colleague from work, and I needed some caffeine to help keep me awake.
While enjoying my coke I finished my homework and started on some personal writing. I wrote down a couple of little tidbits to share with you guys here on the blog, and I also wrote in a journal that I've started keeping since I've been here.

The bartender and a group of younger men were all crowded around the flat-screen t.v. by the bar, watching a football (soccer) game.

There was a group of older men sitting in the same area of the cafe, and they were having a riot. I could tell they were all old friends, and laughed out loud a couple of times at their antics.

I had been at the cafe slowly sipping my Coke for about an hour and a half when one of the older men approached me. He had just put on his coat and was ready to leave.

"You have a very beautiful smile."

"Oh, thanks, that's really nice. "

"Can I pay for your drink?"

"Oh, no that's okay!" (Thinking: Ha, I know better than to go down this road.)

"No, I insist."

"Um... okay." (If you insist...)

So, he goes to the counter and tells the uber-hot bartender he's paying for my drink. He comes back.

"Do you want a second Coke?" (Mine is all but gone.)

"No thank you, that's nice of you to offer, though."

"It's my pleasure. So, can I invite you to go out to dinner with me sometime?"

Um. NO. You're like fifty. I knew I shouldn't have let you pay for that drink. (He was, however, very well-mannered and very well-dressed. If he had been 15 years younger I would have said yes.)

"Oh, ummm. No, I don't think so."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thank you anyway."

He was extremely gracious about my rejection (unlike kiwi-man). But he did stay and chat with some people right by the exit for like 40 minutes, so even though I was about ready to leave, I stayed cemented in place until he was gone.

So... now I pose the question.

Is it acceptable to allow someone to pay for your drink if you are CERTAIN you would never go out with them should they ask? Or is letting someone buy you a drink some kind of code for "Hey, I want your body," or "If you ask me out, I promise I'll say yes."?

After this experience I'm kind of leaning that way, but it's not like I have a whole ton of experience with this kind of stuff. Let's face it, I'm no club- or bar-hopping socialite, and when I go out at home I'm usually surrounded by friends, not chilling by myself, so there isn't really the opportunity for things like this to happen.

What do you guys think?

I think:
1) I need to learn how to say no. And stick with it. I always give in so I don't hurt someone's feelings, but then it always comes back to bite me.
2) It must be because of my aqua contacts.
3) I won't let anyone else buy me a drink unless I would be willing to let them take me out at least once.

I Should Also Mention...

1) I love my French class. My teacher is really personable and I think I'll learn a lot from him.

2) I don't get guys here. I think I might have said this already, but it seems like in Utah no guys want to commit. Here, every guy wants to. Or maybe they just want sex. That's probably it. (edit: I'm talking about guys I didn't meet at Church. Obviously.)

3) I think it's wierd to give someone an affectionate nickname when you've only ever had one conversation face-to-face. (This bullet point has been edited to avoid causing offense.)

4) The Catacombs won the poll this week, so I'm going to try to head over there on Saturday. I'll have to take a look and see when they're open. I'll be sure to take as many pictures as I can.

Did I mention...

that I have a little crush on a bartender across the street?
I have a thing for dark features.

Sparkly

I was finally able to buy a ring. I found "just the right one" at the uber-classy and high-end tween jewelry store, Claire's boutique. It cost me $10, and it's so sparkly anyone who looks for more than a split second will probably know it's fake.

But I have to do what I can. So, here it is for your viewing pleasure. Actually, I would totally wear a ring like this--I love the three-stone rings, I think they are gorgeous.

You Prefer to Be Alone? Or, The Allegory of the Kiwi Fruit

As I walked into the grocery store today, there was a nice man there offering samples of kiwi fruit. He offered me some, and I said no.

"But, you have to try to know that you don't want any."

Um.... no. I've actually tasted kiwi before--and I know that I don't want any right now.

I take a piece anyway to be nice, tell him it's good, and am trying to walk away when he asks me something else.

I don't understand what he says. Not only is my French imperfect, he has a very thick African accent. We are bound to miscommunicate.

"I am not French," I say, as if to explain that I am generally inept and all of my faults should be excused.

"What nationality are you?"

"American."

"Oh, How are you?" he asks in English.

"Fine thank you. How are you?"


Then we have this half-english, half french (with me saying, "Pardon?" about every 5 seconds) conversation:

Him: Your husband is in America?

Me: (groaning on the inside, knowing where this is going). I don't have a husband.

Him: Your fiance?

Me: No fiance.*

Him: Your boyfriend?

Me: I don't have a boyfriend.

Him: You like boys?

Me: Um... yes, I like boys. (What the??!!)

Him: So, why don't you have a boyfriend? (As if me having an interest in boys in general means I should, by default, have a boyfriend at all times. Oh, of cooooourse I should.)

Me: (This question again, seriously? I DON'T KNOW!!!) Oh, you know... I don't know exactly.

Him: What are you doing tonight?

Me: Uhh...

Him: Do you want to go out tonight?

Me: Um. Thank you, but no.

Him: Why no?

Me: (I'm really not used to so much persistence. Utah boys don't bounce back from rejection this easily). Um. Just... no. But thank you.

Him: So you prefer to be alone?

Apparently.

Seriously. A) How does the fact that I don't have a boyfriend make me a lesbian? and B) How does the fact that I don't want to go out with YOU, especially where you are a stranger I met in the grocery store, mean I would rather sit at home and knit doilies than do anything?



I refuse to accept that my lot in life is to either end up alone OR to keep having these exasperating experiences.



And for the record, I would, in fact, rather be alone than settle and be with someone I couldn't respect, didn't love, and don't find interesting to talk to.



So take your kiwi fruit and... just... give someone else a sample.




*But watch me buy myself an awesome CZ in record time.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do-oo...

...even when you're not really dating.
Plus in this case it led to some really awkward sight seeing that I could have done without.



Ready?



As you know, yesterday was supposed to be the big pseudo-breakup day. I don't want to get into too many of the gory details, so I'll try to help you visualize it with a little outline/script. Just picture this:


-Me missing two calls while I was in the shower.
-Me ignoring one call because I didn't know what to say.
-Me missing at least one, maybe two more calls because I was in the Metro.
-Not having the courage to call back.
-Me hoping he'll call one more time before I go to bed so I can get it over with.
-No such luck.
-Me going to bed at 10:30 (finally a normal bedtime!!!).
-Waking at 12:30 to my phone vibrating. Thinking it's 8:00 already and my alarm is going off.
-No such luck.

"Hello?" (I have been asleep for two hours and have fallen into deep slumber. I am incoherent, and the man on the other end of the phone is speaking in French.)
"Hey, why aren't you answering your phone? Didn't you get my messages?"
-Me, (because I'm a coward, AND because I shouldn't have had this conversation at English in my state, let alone having it in angry French) choosing to answer the easier of those two questions: "Um, I didn't even get any messages on my phone."
-Him, angry: "Okay, so this is it then? This is how things are going to end? So, we're done then."
-Click.


-Me, groaning. There goes my good night's sleep.
-Two texts to him, a couple of emails to friends later, I finally fall asleep at 3:30 in the morning.

This afternoon at around 5:00 my phone rings. It's him. I'm not going to lie--I'm surprised.

-Me, hesitant: "Hello?"

-Him: "Hi. How are you?"

-Me: (Thinking, "Are you serious?") "Uhhh, I'm fine. How are you?" (You're the one who hung up on me, remember?)

-Him: "Good. Can I come by your apartment?"

-Me: (Thinking, "What is the deal with this? Didn't you get the point?") "If you want to, but only as my friend."

-Him: *Sighs* "We'll see."

We'll see?!?!?! Dude, what about our annoying half-conversation at midnight don't you remember?

So he came over, and I told him I wanted to go take pictures somewhere, but I didn't know where so I wanted a suggestion. He suggested taking pictures under the Eiffel Tower.

We started walking up the street, about an arm's length away, and I am asking him questions. "So, what about this, what about that"... and then... nothing. A big, fat, awkward silence. A lot of it.

"So, this is what it's like to be friends," says he. "There is no in between."

Lovely.*

After nearly 5 minutes of that I just about turned around and went home. But instead, because I'm punishing myself for my bad decision, I decided to continue on. So, after several silent, no eye-contact metro rides, we got to the Eiffel Tower.

I snapped these:

(So not worth it)

-He took me to the Metro, double and triple checked to make sure I knew they way home (because even if he's not the guy for me, he is truly a gentleman), and we went our separate ways. For good.

So, here's to making friends and breaking friends in the Metro. (Cheers.)

*But I'm not going to let you manipulate me into dating you just to alleviate any negative tick marks to my conscience. So stop it.

Smiling at single men in Paris...

... is apparently an open invitation for them to hit on you. Woops! I guess I forgot I wasn't in Utah anymore (where I'm pretty sure you can smile at anyone and they don't take it as a come-on unless they're WAY to arrogant for their own good).

Got invited out for drinks last night by some random guys on the street. And all I did was smile. Of course I didn't go, because I did in fact learn something from my experiences with my Algerian friend. Well, that plus I felt like I was being hunted. So that was kind of creepy.

I'm wondering if this kind of experience is why Parisians don't really make eye contact or smile at each other very often. Maybe they're afraid that everyone will think they're out to "get some."

Let me clarify that I think Parisians, and really most French people I've ever met, are really nice and warm-hearted people. They're just not as smiley and "hello"-ey to everyone they see on the street as what I'm used to seeing in Utah. There are 11 million people in the Paris Metro area, after all.

Drama

I think my "friend" is under the impression that he's my boyfriend. So tomorrow I think I'm going to have to have the "I think you're great, so let's stay friends but just be friends and nothing more" talk. How did this happen??

Seriously. I don't do drama.

But I'm gonna hafta tomorrow. Because I have a feeling my "friend" doesn't do "let's be friends." I wish they sold Dr. Pepper in France because it's going to be a long day. Maybe some Orangina and a lovely crepe and panini dinner will help salvage the day.

Maybe. You guys will still be my friends even if I break up with my Algerian-Parisian pseudo-boyfriend tomorrow, right?