Meeting Girls in Paris

Eva Green, star of Dreamers, a Bond movie, the Golden Compass and maybe some other stuff. When French people first learn how to speak English, it sounds really high-pitched and stunted. But once they reach a certain level, they learn how to elongate their vowels and change the cadence of their voices, it sounds really goddamn sexy. Eva Green has achieved this level of English.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

One of my first nights here, my roommate (a 35-ish dude) told me that when it really got down to it, the reason he moved to Paris was for the girls.

I couldn’t agree more.

But meeting girls in Paris is NOT THAT EASY. Meeting guys? Fuck. That’s easier than breathing here. All you have to do is dress up decently, take the metro a few stops and three dudes will ask you if you’d like to “prendre un verre” with them. (Pardon my written French, it blows.) But meeting girls on the other hand... that is a real challenge. And it is one that I am not making any progress on. I already wrote about how I went to this gay-girl bar by myself. It’s called 3W... “Woman with Woman.” Clever, France, very clever. That did not work. I did however vindicate myself by going back there with a few friends (we were trying to find a boy-bar to go dancing but we got lost and I was like “I know where we can go!”) and scored some French girl’s number. But when I woke up the next morning I only had a vague memory of the event and couldn’t remember anything I or she said. Let alone what she looked like. Rookie mistake. My friends said she “looked totally charmed” but I’m not sure I believe them as I had reached the point in the night when I lose all my French and can barely get a sentence out in English. But whatever.

So this week’s gay-misadventure involved the internet. I looked up lesbian meet-ups in Paris or some such nonsense and eventually found my way to this site:http://www.girlports.com/lesbiantravel/destinations/paris/social_cultural_associations . I currently have it bookmarked as “Gay stuff.” A lot of it (all of it?) is totally lame. But, you gotta do what you gotta do. I know no one in this city (meaning I know like 10 people) and I know no lesbians (meaning I know no lesbians). So on Sunday night I geared up. I bought a pack of cigarettes (my social crutch of choice) dressed chic but not-too-girly (easy with my new somewhat butchier cut). And off I went to some Sunday night “Tea-Party-Dance Club.” What? I should have known it would suck by the name.

It started at 6... I rolled on by at like 7:30 ish... Not only was it in some weird building complex on the side of the Pompidou Centre, it was also COMPLETELY empty. Not a smoker in sight standing around it. In Paris, that means a bar is dead. Maybe it didn’t really start at 6?

So I rolled on home and bought a falafel and watched some internet tv. But then I got to thinking and I was like, fuck that. I am not letting THAT be my night. So I finished my falafel, turned off “How I met your mother” and headed out into the night, again. This time I went to this bar that I had stumbled past on the way to 3W with my friends. It looked more laid back. I stopped across the street, did some internal battling so I had a cigarette and walked on in. It was quiet, the bartender smiled at me. I asked for a beer and was awkward about it. Ugh. I hate being awkward.

Then I sat there for like half my beer wondering what I should stare at. That’s the good thing about bars for boys-n-girls, they usually have sports you can pretend to watch. No such luck here. After a bit, I got to talking to the bartendress. She obviously knew I was a total newbie. But she took pity on me and talked to me in French and gave me advice. I could have gotton down on my knees and thanked her. She gave me the whole scoop on where was cool to go, how some bars are mostly couples, where some spots are to check out. I asked her about the place I had passed by earlier. She said it was totally scary and butchy. Noted.

So I finished my beer (this shitty drink called “Desperado” that should never have been invented) and thanked her. Awesome. So now I know where to meet women? Not really. But I guess it’s cool that I have a vague idea about what’s out there in terms of Paris nightlife. So then I went and got high for like 5 hours with my friend and this dude she knows who believes in the Hollow Earth Theory. Man, I love this place. I might not be getting any action, but at least I’m meeting all these nutty, amazingly kind people.