Santa Barbara Week-end.

Spent this past weekend in Santa Barbara.

It’s always great to get out of the city once and a while. I can’t completely tell you what happened, but I will confirm the trip as a success. It’s always nice to be around college students who are as clueless about life as I am. Living in Paris, it’s easy to forget that you’re not 43.

I was granted the opportunity to investigate the SB dating scene through the lens of an outsider. I didn’t get to see much in the short time that I was there but apparently, there is an “unspoken rule” for hook ups. A friend explained that its normal for individuals to jump from partner to partner without serious commitments. Most hook ups end after about a month, no hard feelings. Even the women play the game, how empowering.

Of course, I was not expecting to meet anyone. The side baseball cap, sagging jeans, and sandals just aren’t my style. I’m convinced that most a great deal of men that age (I know how much you guys hate generalizations) just aren’t ready to be taken seriously.

Regardless, the system they have there seems like the ideal situation; a lot of people our age aren’t looking for anything serious during these years of sweet, blissful freedom. Is that how all college scenes are or just SB?

P.S. I was inspired to update the look of this site. Hope you like it !

La vie avant 21 ans.

Hey World,

Haven’t been in the mood to write lately…too much real life going  on here. In Paris life is a dream, even the crappy things feel like a story. Family and true friends make life real again. Thus, I’d prefer to keep things to myself.

Though I will share this :

Last night was friday night and my bff and I needed to get out. We found a classy bar called Chloe, but neither of us wanted to suffer the embarrassment of getting rejected for being under 21. We are adults who work hard, we pay taxes and contribute to society, thus we deserve to have a drink on a Friday night. This culture forces the youth to run rampant.

So with no real options, we did what most kids our age do on a Friday night : hit up a party off the UCLA campus. The neighborhood was rampant with post-adolescent vigor : red cups and booze all over the street, music playing from 4 different parties, some guy singing “vagina on my dick! vagina on my dick!” from the rooftops. Honestly it felt uplifting to be with college kids again. Beer pong, red cups, slutty girls, drunken shirtless men, vomit on that couch — we could only sit, watch and enjoy.

“Who the fuck are you anyway?” I know some of the girls wanted to yell when their men slid over to on draguer (I miss this word). There was no need to worry, the men have no game.

“What’s your name?”

“India”

“Oh hey, are you Indian?”

“No.”

“Oh hey, but you look kind of Indian”

“You think?”

“Where do you go to school?”

“I go to school in Europe…Paris, actually.”

“Ohhhohhh! Wow, Paris. Hey where is that anyway?”

“Ummmm….Texas”

“Hey I’ve been to Texas once”

And then a drunken shirtless man comes between us to vomit over the balcony.

Here is a video of the male stripper who came for the birthday boy. I spoke to him later, not once in his 8 year career had he performed for a man and he was offended. LOL.

Does anyone know how to get into a bar without a fake ID?

Chapitre 1: Coucher ensamble sans coucher ensamble

I remember my first real boy/girl sleep over.

I arrived in my pajamas thinking we’d play a game of sexy twister before cuddling up in front of a movie with popcorn. “We’ll flirt and giggle till dawn” I thought “and I’ll wake up entangled in a cute boy’s arms.”

Turns out sexy twister wasn’t the only thing on his mind that night…

Somehow this pattern continued to haunt me in college and eventually turned into a real problem.

I failed to realize that lying in a man’s bed at night sends a certain message…..

The following is a list of rules I wish I could have sent myself 2 years ago. My French friends tell me to relax and just go with the flow of things, but quite honestly I feel that this particular matter needs to be handled with pragmatic discretion. There is nothing worse then regretted sex. Nothing. If you are like me, then perhaps now you can avoid some sticky situations.

1. To begin, sleeping in bed together does not automatically denote sleeping together. And any mec who doesn’t respect that is immature.

2. ….that is unless it’s because he picked you up from a club or bar. Then the signal was clear…

3. In the heat of the moment, chances are you won’t be thinking clearly so it’s best to decide exactly what you want before so if you do sleep together, at least you will know that you made that decision yourself.

4. However if you do not want to baiser, it’s only fair to be honest from the beginning. Tactfully of course (Immediately after the kisses start to get hot — but don’t wait too long).

5. ATTENTION: once les culottes are gone all bets are off. In fact it’s best to just keep your tights on.

6. Be wary of the morning after!!!! Seriously. You think you have successfully secured a safe sexy sleep over, think again. The morning is actually the most dangerous time because you are hazy and drunk with assurance!

7. It is important to consider if you’ve been manipulated into this situation. Are you drunk? Did you randomly show up at his front door by Moped? Then it’s best to be going.

8. Don’t push it. Seriously, a man can only handle so much torture.

Bottom line, it’s just best to be honest…especially if it’s the first night. As long as everyone is on the same page, a little fun won’t hurt

Enjoy!

Un revirement.

flirt

|flərt|   verb.

to behave as though attracted to or trying to attract someone,

but for amusement rather than with serious intentions :

it amused him to flirt with her.

I have a confession to make.

I don’t like flirting. Yes, yes I know. Flirting in Paris. Blah blah blah. But really, what’s the point?

It occurred to me the other day at the Sorbonne.

There was a boy in my history class that I always noticed. He’s the tall, dark haired, intellectual sort with glasses and a charming smile. Though the class has been running for quite some time, it was only yesterday that we locked eyes. Briefly at first, then a bit longer the second time, and finally with a smile the third.

It was the perfect introduction — the inviting opportunity to take things a step further.

But what’s the point? I asked myself.

Even if I do casually approach him after class and ask for a cigarette…and even if  we do start a conversation…and even if we do exchange phone numbers and then eventually have a wonderful dinner….and even if we ultimately did end up sort of going out….I wouldn’t want it because I can tell that it wouldn’t last beyond the initial attraction.  So what’s the point of even starting.

It’s all just a waste of energy. We either like each other and have a genuine relationship or we don’t. None of this silly in between nonsense.

La honte.

In college, regretful hookups are inevitable.

Whether its the girl you kissed that one drunken night the first week of school freshman year….or the time  you woke up in your friends bed and missed Psychology. Perhaps their hideousness seemed charming in your drunken state. Or maybe it was because satisfying that pressing urge was just too easy.

Yes, these things do inevitably happen. And we slap our faces in shame at the sound of his or her first name. “Oh GOD! WHAT WAS I THINKING!?!” …we all want to scream

The part I hate the most is the day after — when you pass the disgraced individual on the street. You’re not sure whether to force a smile or run. So you exchange an awkward hello and then immediately look away, for the sight of their face makes you sick with embarrassment. For the next several weeks you avoid whatever halls, cafeterias, and libraries you know they hang out in — but despite all your efforts you CONTINUE to run into each other when you turn sharp corners.

After a few weeks pass, the humiliation and shame subsides and it is no longer necessary to acknowledge each other anymore.

Thank god.

“L’addition, s’il vous plaît”

The other day, a friend from school invited me to tea.

“I’d like to take you to a genuine salon de thé” were his exact words. So, I met him at the metro and we walked through le Marais to a cute little tea house. There, he asked me what I wanted from the menu, asked me if I wanted a dessert to go along with my tea, and ordered for me. We had great conversation and the tea was delicious. We really did have a fabulous time.

When the bill came, I sat back and allowed him to take care of it – after all his exact words had been “I’d like to take you to a genuine salon de tea”. Perhaps he didn’t understand this connotation in English because he asked me if I had 10 euros. Luckily I did and it was really no big deal – but it just got me wondering…

What is a lady supposed to do when the bill comes?

I guess you have to look at the dynamic of the relationship. We are not dating, so many people would think it is indecorous for me to expect to be paid for. But why does this practice have to be preserved for courtship? Why can’t it just be apart of consideration and friendship?

I am a 19-year-old college student living alone in Paris. I do not have the luxury of going to a dining common three times a day. I don’t have a dorm concierge to take care of my household needs. I can’t ask my mother to run to the store and buy me some new shoes. I don’t have a father who hands me extra money for a cab home.  I live on a strict budget that includes rent, utilities, transportation, and most importantly – food.  So when someone asks me out for lunch – it’s sort of a special occasion. (okay maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit as I usually do eat lunch out – but I’m not going to tea houses and ordering desserts!)

One might argue that paying for a lunch is not typically apart of friendship. My guy friends do it all the time for each other for no reason at all. “Naw man I got it, don’t even worry about it”. They do it because they are friends and they want to take care of each other. It’s so generous. But when you add a young woman to the equation (someone who could actually probably use it) everything all of the sudden changes and these boys aren’t so charitable.

Perhaps it would have been different if I hadn’t sat back and allowed him to take care of things. Another friend of mine said that it is rude for a girl to just sit there with a smile on her face expect him to pay. But I personally feel more uncomfortable bumbling through my purse waiting for a man to say, “I got it.” I only want to take out my wallet if I have the fullest expectation of paying. Why pretend? Why not allow the gentleman to take care of me? As soon as he pays, I say thank you and perhaps invite him back to my place for ice cream or something.

I guess the immodestly lies in the expectation on my part. I will admit that it is awkward for me to assume that a man (friend, boyfriend, lover, whatever) will take care of me in this way. If this interaction had been in America, I would have most definitely taken out my wallet. Had it been a close friend living alone like me, I would have taken out my wallet. Had I known that my friend was struggling I probably would have paid. However, there is nothing wrong with a young woman allowing herself to be taken care of when the situation warrants it.