TheKnitter and I went out for a grumpy caf� yesterday in the Marais. I don't know what was wrong with either of us, but we were sort of gloomy and frustrated and incapable of making decisions.
When we finally plunked down at a table at a pretty good people-watching crossroads, we began the intense discussion of what to do with our lives. This a recurring theme for my non-French friends living in this city, scraping by financially with or without the added help of outside sources. The truth is that a) this city is very, very expensive and b) it is difficult for French people to get jobs, and even more so for foreigners. Voila.
After a few minutes of sipping coffee and finally having the clearheadedness to converse, a young man asked TheKnitter if he could roll a cigarette with her paper/tobacco. After introducing himself and what not, we began a 30-minute conversation.
At first, it went quite well. The man studied an Ivy League school in the US, knew a fair amount about my field of study here, and was easy to talk to. He seemed bright, and was interested in our opinions of France and the differences between our two countries. He asked the inevitable boyfriend question, to which I responded clearly and with reasonable detail, leaving the window open for TheKnitter's benefit. She promptly closed it, mentioning her "boyfriend" and we all moved on to another topic.
When the convesation began to wane, he admitted to dreaming of directing high-quality porn films. I told him there was a market out there for it, at least for women, because it's sort of becoming fashionable for women-centered pornographic material. We discussed how maybe porn could change (less degradation and more character development) and the hurdles one could overcome when filming such a project (the stars actually need to be able to act, not just bone).
We eventually moved away from that conversation as well, and TheKnitter suggested she visit the ladies', pay the bill, and we would go. After she came back, he invited us over to his house, which we declined as gracefully as possible.
At the last minute, he asked, somewhat urgently, "Have the two of you ever thought of making love with a man involved?"
"A threesome?" asked/declared TheKnitter.
"Yeah... that could be interesting for you, don't you think?"
We both laughed, looked at one another, laughed again, and mumbled out something to the tune of, "Um... no."
At that moment I realized he had thought the two of us were a couple, and that our boyfriend stories were bogus. That's amusing to me, but even more amusing to me is how unprepared we were for his question. Later, of course, I realized that I should have mentioned that the two of us needed to work out whether the we would ever want to be together first, and THEN we could consider having a man involved. Obviously, he thought we had already jumped over that hurdle.
Anyway, it was worth a chuckle.
Leave a comment