Choc culturel.

We all come from our own worlds.

Whether we are an heiress living in London or a rapper selling your CDs on Crenshaw, we construct our lives based on how we see ourselves and the people around us. And as such, we gravitate toward those who validate our reality. Of course, most people don’t consciously realize this…

for there is no need when surrounded by people who are like you.

Over these past two years, I’ve been perplexed by the number of unstable relationships that just do not fit me. The French women I meet are either elusive and unapproachable or just a flat out bitchy. The French men usually never pursue anything beyond innocent flirtation or a one night stand. Perhaps I am just too tall and intimidating. I tell myself innocently. Or perhaps they just like drama.

And then you get the Lame-os: the dudes who so hopelessly just don’t make the cut. They usually are uneducated and/or have absolutely no money and/or no respectable aspirations and/or are too short. I don’t want a boyfriend who sells cars and never went to college, they make me want to yell. And yet those are the ones I get to choose from here.

Sure, I gave it a shot once or twice: the short guy, the penniless guy, the “uneducated car sales man” guy. I’m not a shallow girl who judges people simply on height and wealth, if he can make a girl laugh then he’s worth a shot. But each one left me unconvinced that we truly understood each other. We disagreed on very basic principals. Ultimately we came from different worlds.

But then I realized something.

I felt it with cute Frenchman too, as well as the sexy Spaniard, the hot Italian, etc etc etc. In fact, it applies to my entire life in Paris in general. This is not my world.

I’m done with this.

I’m going back to my roots and my people.

I’m headed for Atlanta.