The mix of laissez-faire attitude and unabashed attention can be baffling for an American more used to the game of Do You Like Me? It’s like you skip courtship and go directly to coupledom shortly after exchanging texts.
When I showed up for my date with Marcel, for example, part of me thought he might actually have a bouquet of flowers with him — that’s how over-the-top Romeo he’d seemed.
I was relieved that he skipped the roses; this may be Paris, but it’s not a Woody Allen movie.
He did, however, begin caressing my forearm before we even ordered wine.
It has to do with our origins, a mix of Latin and Celtic.
“I appreciate the spontaneity, but my New Yorker mentality can’t handle just going with the flow like this,” says Amy. Just tell me where we’re going.” Cole, 30, another New York transplant, thinks choosing a place in advance says something about what kind of guy he is. While deodorant would be nice, as would picking up the bill, maybe choosing a specific place to meet isn’t necessary after all. Maybe all we do need is a long walk on cobblestones, the moonlight, and a spark.
And not having to wonder when to send the next text or if it’s too soon to sleep with him? “In Paris, guys are much more likely to be upfront with you, which is a relief,” says Cole. S., there’s this stigma that if you sleep with someone too soon they’re not going to like you.
Whereas here, if you like each other, you sleep with each other.
They’re not going to slut-shame you.” And there’s some truth to the age-old clichés about Paris as the world capital of romance.