Feminist? Or just a Product of my Generation and Family?

A little story for you: (it will give you some context for my next post)

Several weeks ago, I was hanging with some friends at the home of an acquaintance-friend. (Mostly acquaintance, but I'm friends with his friends... you all know what I'm talking about, right?)

So, earlier in the day this guy had purchased two containers of chocolate chip cookie dough from some little kids peddling it door-to-door. Their dad was out of work, and they were selling cookie dough to try and help bring in some money. So he bought two. Sweet, right? I thought so.

A little later that night, we're all hanging in the basement playing a game, and someone mentions that those cookies were sounding pretty good right about then. The problem? They were still in dough form in the containers they came in.

So this guy leans back and smiles like he's really proud of himself, motions to the door leading upstairs where the kitchen is, and says, "Ladies?"


Do I even need to finish the story at this point?


So, apparently the look I gave him was pretty expressive, because another guy friend who was there reacted pretty quickly to my reaction. The gist of what he said is, "Whoa. Sarah looks pissed."

Well, no kidding.

First of all, who's making the assumption that just because someone is female they are automatically at home in the kitchen?

And secondly, where the bleep did his manners go? I can guarantee to you that if he had made the same assumption (that we could all bake cookies well) (incorrect assumption on his part--I can't bake a cookie to save my life), but at least phrased it more appropriately, I would have been happy to head upstairs and bake the freakin' cookies. But what on earth makes him think that his 1) ignorant assumption and 2)smug presentation would make anyone want to go bake him cookies?

Let me be clear--it's not like I threw a fit about it. I don't remember if I even said anything (verbally). My face just conveyed my feelings for me.

I don't consider myself to be a feminist, but I do get annoyed when guys say idiotic things like "The man is the prince of his home and shouldn't have to help clean. When he gets home from work he should just get to relax. He shouldn't have to help around the house or with the cooking or the dishes." (A semi-direct quote. It was said in French, so... you know. But you get the idea.)

So, this leads me to wonder... would you say that makes me a feminist? Is that something that just comes from growing up in the family I did? Or does it just make me a product of this generation?

Would you say that you are a feminist? Or a champion of women's rights (men, if you're not okay with calling yourself a feminist.)

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.

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.

Ye Shall Know Me by My Earrings

Today I was walking down the sidewalk, enjoying the feel of the mist-like rain that was falling on the city, when a young man doing street-contacting for some sort of national organization stopped me.



Him: "Mademoiselle?" (Just as I am walking past him)

Me: "Oui?" (Doing a 180 to face him)

H: How are you?

M: Fine, thanks, how are you.

H: Super.

M: Good.

H: You're not French are you?

M: (Thinking: You CANNOT be serious. I can't even manage to say HELLO without sounding like an American?!)

M: (Out Loud) No, I'm not. (Hoping I look confused as to why he's saying this)

H: Well, it's actually because of your earrings.

M: My earrings? (Oh, of COURSE it was my earrings...naturally.)

H: Yeah. French women don't wear earrings like that.

M: (Out loud) Oh. (Thinking: Oh, yeah. I forgot how French women don't like color.)

H: They look like candy.

M: Hm.

H: Well, since you're not French, I can't give you my spiel, so have a great day!

M: You, too.



So, next time you see someone wearing earrings like these*:




you can safely assume that, though they may not be American, above all... they aren't French.

*Yes, those are the actual "candy" earrings I am wearing today

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!!

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.

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.

Wandering Downtown and Making a New Friend

I went to Institute tonight, but gost lost on the way, so I got there late. Next week I'll get there early so I can speak to more people. I just felt silly walking up to them at the end and introducing myself. Not quite sure why. But next week I'll definitely make a point to be there on time. Maybe I'll go to dinner at a restaurant by the Centre Pompidou since it's right across the street.

That's actually where I started my adventure tonight (Thursday night) after Institute. I walked behind the C. Pompidou where the Stravinsky fountain is and took this picture of the Eglise Saint-Merri.



I was going to take some pictures of the fountain, but a) it wasn't working, so it looked kind of depressing, and b) there was absolutely no light on it whatsoever and I had no tripod. Maybe I'll go take some tomorrow in the daylight. Capturing that depressed look of the foundain might be interesting compared with the normally lively and colrful display (and I say capturing in the most broad of terms. My photography skills are still in embryo, as it were).

Then I went past City Hall, which boasted a temporary ice rink out in front and a roof that was glimmering when I came upon it (much like the Eiffel Tower does evey hour on the hour).




Continuing on without any real direciton or purpose, I passed through the square in front of Notre Dame and decided to stop for a picture. It looks freshly sandblasted. So pretty. I loved that there was still a Christmas tree in front of it.


I managed to find a store that was open so I could buy body wash (will I ever remember everything I need at the store?), and I grabbed a baguette while I was there and munched on it on my way back to the Metro. There really is nothing better than a French baguette. Expect maybe a French lover, but I can't provide a comparison for you, sorry.

While waiting for the metro train to come, I checked the map on the wall like 4 times, because I had to make two transfers to get to the line that goes to my neighborhood, and I wanted to be certain I knew ahead of time exactly where I had to transfer. A guy standing near me noticed how often I was looking and asked in French if I was lost. I said I didn't think so, but showed him where I was trying to go and how I was planning to get there. It apparently worked, because he said that's where he was going.

I apparently have an English accent (gosh, I didn't already know that, thanks), and so he spoke to me a little bit in English before introducing himself (Y, from Algeria). We chatted our way through two Metro stops in a random conversation about ourselves in English and French. He is currently studying Physics at a University in Paris, and his internship is at a big Obsertavory here, where he is studying Saturn and its system. Whatever that means. I guess Saturn probably has some suns/moons/other things that are fun to learn about when you care about physics. He is also trying to pass the TOFEL so he can come to the US and study finance. The guy speaks French, Arabic, English, Spanish, and some other language (German, I think). Man. I'm completely jealous.

So, anyways, we're going to go out on the town tomorrow. My dad is, of course, freaking out.

Don't worry, dad. I promise not to marry him. I don't even know if this is a date. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

__________________________

During our metro-ride chat, he asked if I had a boyfriend and I said, "No."

"Why?" He asked--and he was completely serious.

Ummmmm... Okay. If I knew, then maybe I'd be able to do something about it, right?

How do you even answer that kind of question?

Misleading Purchases

Yesterday I stopped by Harmon's to buy

these

these

and these.

The cashier: "Looks like you're headed off to make out with someone."

Well, then.

Me: "Ha. I wish. I'm moving to France, and I don't know if they sell SpinBrushes there, so I thought I'd take a couple of spares."

Maybe if I'm lucky I'll end up buying gum with a purpose while I'm in France. But I'm not holding my (minty fresh) breath.