Tonight I am here to tell you about the scarring* rejection I faced last week (was it just last week? Time passes so slowly when one is in despair*). As you may or may not be aware, the Stanford Center in Paris is located within an engingeering school, which, like many engineering schools, is full of guys. So when the program staff told us about the language partner program, in which we are each paired with a French student to practice our French and their English and go have delightful, cultural Parisian adventures, they warned us American girls that we would most likely get a boy and that they would most likely treat the necessary exchange of phone numbers as an invitation to call/text excessively, and the obligatory rendez-vous as a date (although with slightly more subtle phrasing). And that, my friends, is exactly what did happen. For MOST of us...
I went down to the "pot", a mixer kind of thing with tiny food, and began a nice if somewhat surfacey (but we just met, what do you expect) conversation with my partner. He was friendly and animated and seemed like a nice guy, but after talking for a few minutes he said he had to leave early to go have dinner with someone and could not go with the group to the Champs de Mars for less-supervised revelry. Ok, fine, we had already exchanged numbers and I wasn't planning to stay for long anyway. Before he excused himself, he had shown me a text from a friend of his who was also at the pot who had apparently been assigned to a "really cute" American girl. My partner got very excited, I assume because he had yet to see a "cute" American girl (RUDE). He then spent the next several minutes trying to get a look at her. We couldn't see who it was, but apparently my partner had not given up. He said goodbye to me and I found another partnerless person to chat with. Then, about 10 minutes later, I looked across the room and saw that my partner was still there, talking to this friend and the "cute girl"!!! * HOW RUDE. He has not called me since, and I do not think we shall be doing anything together. Hmph!
It's ok though, I have moved on. In fact, while passing by the Louvre (how casually Parisian of me) the other day, I fell in love at first sight:
And now I feel this is necessary:
DISCLAIMER: I was not interested in my language partner nor the idea of having someone text me obsessively (phones are expensive here, yo!) nor awkward obligatory rendez-vous. It was The Principle of the thing. (or for those of you twitter tweeties out there (I cringe on your behalf), #sarcasm throughout.)
Riding solo,
Clare
*It is not a real scar, just like my tattoo is not a real tattoo.
*I am not in despair.
*Clarification: she is cute actually, the quotes here are to indicate that I am quoting the text message.
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