More concerned with the outcome of his upcoming snappa tournament than tomorrow’s calculus midterm, consistently making Jack-in-the-Box his final stop of any drunken night, and always down for bro-ing out with “the dudes” over some FIFA; yes ladies, this is our classic, American college sweetheart.
Have you ever walked into a frat party and found a group of men debating politics over a glass of Merlot? Nope. Have you ever, in fact, found any men on this campus discussing anything noteworthy over any drink besides a cheap natty light? I haven’t. The problem with most American college males is that, rather than focusing on real-life issues, these testosterone-pumped alpha males are more focused on calculating whether the savings on low-grade natty light will outweigh the optimal taste of Blue Moon (well, at least economics is somewhat on their minds). Although it may seem discouraging for some of us, fear not because there are some men out there…they just happen to be abroad.
That being said, I decided to go to Paris with the intention of thoroughly enjoying every sip of café crème, visiting the Louvre at my leisure, and consuming as much cheap wine, cheese, and baguettes that my body could handle. With self-indulgence on my mind, I didn’t really anticipate any of that Parisian romance most girls fantasize about until, one night, I finally decided to give in to one of my admirers and ended up on the most romantic date I could have ever imagined.
From past experiences, a typical first date consisted of a text from a guy inviting me to day drink with him and his “bros” on his front lawn. As romantic as this may seem, at some point a girl can get a little, well, bored. So, when the Frenchman suggested I meet him the upcoming Tuesday on Pont Des Arts (one of the oldest, most beautiful bridges in Paris known as the “drinking bridge” solely meant for pedestrians), I was already enamored.
When the big date night came around, running late as always, I ran to the Monoprix (the French convenient store) to pick up a bottle of wine before hopping on the metro to meet up with Frenchman at the Pont Des Arts.
I got off at the Chatelet metro stop and waited outside the exit for my Frenchie to come meet me when suddenly, out of nowhere, he appeared on a bike and said with a sexy Parisian accent, “Bon soir mon cherie! Hope on!” (Just to clarify, he meant on the bike).
I knew I immediately clicked with this kid. He was sexy, tall, witty, outgoing, and, for some reason, just being with him made me more confident rather than nervous.
“Ha, you’re joking right? Both of us on that bike?” I said.
He smiled and nodded and just with that, I was on that bike and we rode off into the distance…or actually more like a brief ride through the winding Parisian alleyways, but that’s not too bad either.
We parked the bike, he collected picnic supplies from the bike basket- typical French fare consisting of local wine, Brie cheese, and freshly baked baguette- and we headed to Pont Des Arts.
Imagine a place where you could sit above the Seine, enjoy a glass of Merlot, gaze at the illuminated Eiffel Tour, enchanting Notre Dame, and the Louvre, all at once. Well, Pont Des Art is the place, and on a balmy Parisian night, it may be one of the most breathtaking places you could ever visit. The bridge is strictly for pedestrians so lovers come, cuddle, and people-watch while sipping their Bordeaux and melting into the dreamlike atmosphere.
We sat down, broke out the food and wine, and just talked and talked and talked for the next couple hours while watching the boats float along the Seine. With Paris sparkling in the background, we discussed everything from travel, food, and art, to politics and Sponge Bob. This was most definitely NOT the typical first-time Davis bar-scene date that I was accustomed to.
After a dreamlike date, the clock struck midnight and it was finally time for me to head home. We parted, going separate directions on the same metro line, but not without a goodnight kiss.
There I stood in awe. I just had one of the most romantic nights I could ever fathom, in one of the most fabulous cities on the planet, with one of the foxiest Frenchmen I’ve ever seen. For the rest of the night and throughout the next day, a smile was plastered on my face appreciating the fact that there are still smart, sexy men out there with the ability to surprise, inspire, and entice me.
This type of thing- hot guy, great setting, awesome connection, sexy accent- did not happen on a regular basis. However, when I would agree to go out with those on my pursuit, I was more than pleasantly surprised with the creative, thoughtful, and intriguing dates they came up with. I hate to say it, but those men over in France really did have a certain, eh, je ne sais quoi that the American boys we deal with here just don’t get. Maybe it’s just that I’ve been picking the wrong ones, but over there it was just so clear and easy- no games, no gimmicks, no beer pong tournament first dates- just great conversation, fabulous food, and the right dose of romance.