But – and this is a major mais – the Anglo-Saxon man in search of a French partner does not have to adopt these tactics in order to succeed with French women. Au contraire.
French women love Hugh Grant. He (or his 1990s movie persona, anyway) is charming, sincere and washes behind his ears. On top of this, he is slightly naïve, unsure of his charms, almost unwilling to impose himself on a woman. The complete opposite of the Latin Lover, who does seem to get on French women’s nerves now and again.
I did a radio interview once, a panel show about Englishmen and sex. The presenter suddenly remembered the Hugh Grant prostitute scandal, and began to say how shocking it was. And I quickly realized that what he found so shocking was not that an actor could be caught in his car with a hooker’s face hovering over his flies, but that Hugh Grant actually had a willy. Yes, this archetypal Englishman was (gasp) capable of sex.
It’s a reputation that is not without its advantages for a Brit abroad. A Parisian woman once told me that she was at a party, and a typical Anguished Artist type was coming on to her. He was telling her that she ought to come and spend the night at his place. No obligations, they could just look at the stars and talk about modern sculpture.
‘Oh yeah,’ she told him. ‘You really think I’m that naïve? Forget it.’
‘What if he’d been English?’ I asked her.
She hesitated for a moment, then laughed. ‘I probably would have believed him,’ she said.
‘Actually, there’s a great view of Ursa Major from my apartment,’ I mentioned casually.
Piquant Mix
A mixed Franco-Anglo relationship is a practically obligatory cultural-tourism experience for anyone living in France. What’s more, if you play your cards right, hooking up with a local can solve all sorts of accommodation problems. What better way to find an apartment than to move in with your new amour?
But all cynicism and property-finding issues aside, the long-term mixed relationship has major advantages and disadvantages.
The biggest plus, I have always found, is that you can blame any gaffes on the language. ‘No, chéri(e), you misunderstood me,’ you can claim if your French other half erupts into tears or fury over some stupid thing you have said. You then have several minutes to backtrack and think how to say the exact contrary in mangled French or simple English. Similarly, if you are being ranted at in a foreign language, it is relatively easy to tune the ranting out and carry on reading your book or watching the football on TV.
These conflict-evasion devices are great tools for bringing harmony into an otherwise stormy relationship. And given the French love of talk and melodrama, Gallic partners can be very good at storminess.
The downside of a mixed relationship is that it can be very high maintenance. Adapting to a new culture by speaking the language and driving on the required side of the road is one thing, but when this adaptation extends to the way you eat and drink, what makes you laugh and what you say and do in bed, the pressure can be hard to deal with. It is somewhat embarrassing when you are in bed and your partner is saying something apparently very urgent to you at a critical moment, and you have to ask for a translation or explanation. Please don’t ask how I know.
Then there is the question of what you expect from a long-term relationship. An English friend of mine says that before she got married (to an Englishman), she lived by the mantra, ‘French boyfriends yes, French husband no.’ Her French boyfriends made the effort to say ‘je t’aime’ and buy flowers, but they were just too traditional for her. Sure, they were happy for her to devote time to her career, but it would be nice if she did the cooking, too. And, she felt, if she’d had a child with a Frenchman, it would have felt as though she now had two kids to look after.
However, this theory does not take into account the fact that France has very generous maternity leave – and, in many companies, paternity leave – and that in urban areas, French childcare facilities are second to none. It’s no coincidence that we use the French word crèche for our childcare centres. Paris municipal crèches often charge daily rates proportional to salary, and are open from eight in the morning to seven at night. Providing they get a place at the crèche – which isn’t guaranteed – working mothers have no problems enjoying a fulfilling career, even if their husbands pretend not to know how to unfold the stroller.
Meanwhile, perhaps for exactly the same reasons, pretty well all the Anglo men I know in France are with French women and happy to be so. Sure, you have to remember your daily je t’aime quota and be willing to put up with existentialist debates on Le Couple, but the whole feminist-but-feminine thing is designed to make 42 daily life feel pretty damn sexy.
In any case, French men and women have absolutely nothing against mixed couples, and if the worst comes to the worst, they will accept splitting up as an opportunity for more melodrama and a rant against globalization, so you have nothing to lose.
Lover’s All You Need
Foreigners with a French fiancé or fiancée are often surprised to discover that in France, it is perfectly legal to get married twice.
No, this has nothing to do with polygamy or bigamy. Well, not exactly.
If a couple wants a religious ceremony, then they have to have two weddings. The first one will be at the town hall, officiated over by the mayor or a town councillor. The second service will be in church. Because France is a secular country, a religious wedding alone is not legally binding.43 Double-tying the knot doesn’t guarantee a stronger marriage, though. Adultery is an institution in
