Where I realize how French I have gotten.

Oh mon dieu!  Is that you?  Is it okay if I touch the hem of your sweater?  Can I place my hands on the inside of your wrists?  Can I smell the remnants of perfume on your neck?  Did you have Chipotle recently?  Yes, I can tell by your mesmerizing aroma.  

I’ve been alone for so long here.  I hardly remember what a human voice sounds like.  Are you smiling at me or is that a look of anger?  Oh you’re confused about where you left your vape cigarette.  I think it’s in your cargo jeans.  Did you just say, “I miss you and can’t live without you?”   Oh, you didn’t?  You really said, “I am so sick of avocado toast and podcasts about avocado toast.”

Well, I’m not sick of avocado toast.  I can’t get enough.  When I serve it to myself in my kitchen, I pretend like I am at my favorite cafe and then I wink at myself and say “Where’s your tip jar?”  And then I say back to myself, “We use an electronic system here on this ipad so you actually just press the amount.”  And then I respond to myself again and say in an enticing whisper, “Oh I love technology.”  And then conversation usually drops there because I don’t want to hold up the line and I can’t really tell if you/I want to keep talking.

So, even though I haven’t been hanging out with actual humans,  I have been volunteering at writing events.  At the last event, a tres cool femme, and complete etranger said to me, “You look exactly like . . .” and then she thought about it for a moment.  I didn’t  know who she was going to say.  I was thinking, “ A Four Time Olympic Gymnast?  The woman from the most recent Hall’s cough drops commercial?  Someone from the hit show ‘Blossom?’”

But no.  She did not say any of these choices.  She said, “Juliette Binoche . . . or Audrey Tatou.”  I was like, “Say what!”  I had this immense feeling of unearned pride: my physical prescence (which I cannot really control nor have done anything to make it look this way) looks like the face of not one, but two, coincidentally, French actresses!  Wowsa.  I knew then that I was getting really French.

Yes.  That’s right.  I’m getting super French.

The other day I was at a very chic cafe having a very cheap beer with my very jolie French friend and we were having a full conversation in French.  At the end she was like, “Your accent is good.”  And, I was like, “Wait, what?”  Even though she was speaking in English I couldn’t hear what she said.  So then she repeated it and then I was like, “Thanks!”  Then I was like, “I’ll buy the next round” and then I thought it my head because I am French and cool and drink beer on patios but to the outside world I just looked like a normal person with a seriously short haircut.

As the date of my wedding gets closer, my hair seems to be getting shorter.  I hope that for the wedding in France, they think “Wow, Juliette Binoche seems so normal.  Look she even wears shoes with holes in them and she is looking at price tags while shopping.  How relatable.”

Anyway, even though I have not been “leaving my house” or “having conversations with real people” or “talking about anything other than mortgages,”  I still feel pretty satisfied with my life.  I think maybe the fact that I am so reclusive adds to my Frenchness.  Even though my French friends are way more sociable than I am and actually way more fun and lively,  I think I am mysterious and hidden.  I am a celebrity hiding from the constant adornment of her fans.  C’est tres difficile mais c’est la vie.


9 thoughts on “Where I realize how French I have gotten.

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