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We'll ask each other how much we pay in rent without the slightest hesitation, but dare to ask such a question of a Parisian and you're deemed rude and nosey, or simply very "American." to watch.
Or maybe if we make it through dessert in record time, we can get to the bar before last call.
To which he responded that Americans were careless with the word "love" and used it too frequently.
He also brought up how he was hurt by the way I occasionally thanked servers at restaurants with "Thank you, love," as I would say to a friend who passed me the salt at the dinner table.
Despite their reputation as romantics, the French have a practical approach towards marriage.
The family is the social adhesive of the country and each member has certain duties and responsibilities.
"I love him like that Bon Iver song I can't stop playing," I said.I will try my best to walk slower, to sip my wine as a means to savor it as opposed to getting drunk, and to keep my inside voice at a low level that separates me from the American tourists.But being a New Yorker isn't something you can easily shake."I love your brother-in-law," I said in between bites of bad French pizza that we somehow managed to find along Boulevard de Clichy in Pigalle. "I just adore the dickens out of him."Henri put down his slice and his eyes began to look damp, as if he were about to cry. " Henri's brother-in-law was old enough to be my father.Considering I had just complimented his family, I thought they would be tears of joy. " he asked in his thick French accent through a mix of sadness, anger, and betrayal. Heavy-set and intellectual, he had a house in the French Alps and a black Porsche; things some women might be wooed by, sure, but even if he weren't married to Henri's sister, I didn't want to leave Henri for him.