Ah, French boys...

Hello beloved blog readers!

First of all, just to clarify, I do not lie on my blog.  Everything that I post on here is true, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF MY LAST POST.  I do not, I repeat, I do not have a French boyfriend.  The last post was just a caricature of the typical French man.  I did receive some wonderful responses however (from the indignant friend via gchat wanting to know why she didn't know about the mystery man earlier, to my French friend who said, "yeah I read your post but it doesn't tell me anything ABOUT this guy"...)

Now, back to the real French men that I've had the divine pleasure of meeting....

Ok, full disclosure: this story did not actually happen to me, but it happenned to my friend Sam.  But since we have the same name, it pretty much happened to me ...

Sam was talking with this kid, we'll call him François.  Now, François is French (Le duh).  And François, unfortunately, thinks he's 1) Zeus's gift to women, 2) charged with INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT task of teaching any Anglophone that he meets the "secrets" of the French language.  Unfortunately, many of what he thinks are "secrets" are ... common knowledge.  The first time I met him, he also asked me (in front of 20 people), if I wanted to date his friend (one of the twenty people who was there), so we know he's really good at managing social situations (aka making people uncomfortable).

Anyhow, François wanted to "help" Sam out - by teaching him about sarcasm ("sarcasme", in French).  After explaining the concept, he gave an example by describing the girl standing next to them: "Julie is not very beautiful" he said, "Now you try!"  Sam, feeling pressured to kiiiiiiind of hit on a girl that he'd only just met, said he'd rather say something about François instead.  Also, Sam is a genius.  He said: "You are very funny and interesting to talk to."  "No", said François, "you don't understand..."

...I wish I could have made that story up.

MORE LATER, LOVERS
XOXO
Samantha