Illustration by Inslee Haynes
I was just thinking last week that a few months have passed since I've last heard from Lucien, and was wondering if he has finally gotten that there is no point for us to stay in communication because of what a jerk he was. I know what you may be thinking, after our last exchange, why would he ever contact me again? I know I wouldn't contact me, I was such a bitch. But just like clockwork, I had a message from him waiting for me in my in-box this morning, requesting to meet up with me. It's incredible how he just keeps coming back. We're going on almost three years of this and it still hasn't sunk in that it's over. He may have gone to some fancy shmancy French University but boy is this guy dense.
While I could have entertained myself with a snide response, my days of punishing him are over and the e-mail went unanswered and filed in a folder dramatically labeled "The Vault"; a land where all ex-boyfriend e-mails live and co-exist. I like to go through some of these messages when I want a good laugh over relationships with people I don't even know anymore, and how they were so dire and serious at the time. As you can imagine, MF's e-mails haven't yet reached comedic status, but give me another year and perhaps they will.
Thinking about Lucien, and reading back on our e-mails and some of my posts that I had written about him, I started to feel a little bad. Perhaps I have been too hard on him. Just as I was going to feel shame and write an apologetic post, I stumbled upon this e-mail that snapped me out of my nostalgia, reminding me exactly why I think he is such an ass, and that he deserved me pushing him around a bit. This is how this guy broke up with me:
(Note: This e-mail has been copied and pasted directly from the original e-mail...if you can believe it.)
"I never said you're a fat girl ; I was talking about your thighs & hips fats / cellulites problems that are common for all women, especially you and I was suggesting that you could at least TRY to work on it by running around the Eiffel Tower; so please don't say "Lucien says I'm fat" I'm saying that you are fat in general and you are an unfortunate girl who needs to work harder than others to achieve a slim figure. That's all !"
He continued to say...
"I must now go my own way and reflect on my life. Below, please see article that will justify my actions and help you with your new life in France. Courage."
You read that correctly, he included article to soften the blow of him breaking up with me for my "hips fats".
Never moan about ze mistress: How to Survive as a French Wife
As if providing reading material wasn't offensive enough, the title alone is enough to make your jaw drop. I invite you to read it. I'll wait...
Written by an English woman who offers her "expert" advice and a set of rules to abide by, should you dare become a French femme. The article, where she is basically justifying her French husband's ludicrous demands and emotionally abusive behavior as being a cute French thing, and thinking she is très chic for abiding by them takes ridiculous generalizations to the next level. And we thought "Bringing Up Bébé" was bad! I seldom criticize other Anglo's observations and experiences in France, but this article made me question the writer's self-worth and her credentials (besides being in an unhealthy marriage with a Frenchman) to write this article. I couldn't help but think of her as someone who wanted to fit in with the cool girls in high school and is now carrying her desperate need for approval into her marriage and life in France while becoming "sleeker and chicer version" of her former self. How sad. I was fresh off the boat when I first read this and while I was appalled by these words, I was in no position to question its validity because it very much could have been accurate. At the time, what did I know? Now having several French relationships in France under my belt, I can say that this article is incredibly misguided, false and tragic. Perhaps it was meant to read as tongue in cheek observation of inter-cultural marriages in France but to me, it read as a woman who will do anything to fit into a 1970's cliché of the French, and degrading herself to live up to the impossible expectations of her creepball husband. I mean really, who nurses just one tiny glass of wine while everyone else is getting toasted around you?
While I have certainly picked some questionable suitors, each relationship secures my belief that no man, French or not, is worth marrying if he has an obvious lack of respect for you...and controls what you eat and drink. Am I crazy here? Perhaps I am wrong and this is an honest portrayal of marrying a Frenchman. After all, I never made it down the aisle in France. So I'm asking my ladies who are married to Frenchmen, do any of her points ring true for you? Do your husbands tell you what to wear to the market, criticize your weight, control your drinking and expect that you prepare a home cooked meal for eight of his friends with an hours notice?! If so, I'm hightailing the hell out of France!