Illustration by Frantic Stamper
After having spent yet another great weekend together, Sébastien turned to me and told me he wanted to tell me something. I knew what was coming. He is starting to have those feelings for me.
Having gone through several French relationships over the years where I succumbed to their customs and fell for the fantasy tout de suite, what ended up happening was that the relationship went from film noir to film blah in a matter of months because keeping up that high passion put way too much pressure on the relationship. French men love intensity in their relationship, especially in the beginning. I'm not sure why, maybe it makes it feel more real? More exciting? I've never been able to get a straight answer.
In the past, I thought that this somehow seals the relationship. For life. It doesn't (obviously, hi blog) and it's usually me who gets dumped because I wasn't being true to myself and found myself echoing their passion in order to keep up.
This time around, this relationship, we're doing it American style. Slow and steady where the thought of love isn't even in its embryonic stages until at least 6 months have passed. No moving in, no marriage talk, just staying present. Present, present, present. I can't insist any stronger.
I could tell that Séb who is not used to having an American copine who doesn't want to spend everyday together or have intense conversations about love, was starting to doubt my feelings for him. I flat out told him, "I'm not going to be all French with you," I announced with a huff, "I've done it before and it blows up in my face." I assured him that I only want to be with him, I only have feelings for him and I adore him but I insist on living to my truest values and taking things easy. Save that romance for the next American girl who freshly arrives at Charles de Gaulle. This American has been through the gamete.
