It seemed that for every good decision we made during our trip, there was at least one reciprocal bad decision made.
For example, as our good decision, we chose to have dinner in the Latin Quarter our last night. The dinner was all-inclusive; all-you-could-drink wine, beer and pink champagne feast. After all the beer, wine and pink champagne had been drunk and Colleen had been serenaded with “Que Sera Sera” by the roving minstrels, we felt so high that we decided it was a good idea to literally climb - step-by-step - to the top of the Tour Eiffel. Without my hiking boots and in a skirt, the climb turned out to be a fun but bad choice. I was left sweaty, sober and with blisters. And, we most certainly looked like dumb Americans, singing “Que Sera Sera” while in queue.
But what will be will be.
Our trip to Paris seems to have been a microcosm of my life - especially my dating life. For every good decision I make, I have made at least one bad reciprocal decision.
For example, last winter, I made the good decision to accept a date with a dapper gentleman. When it came to date time, rather than show him my charming side, I coped with my nervousness and anticipation by drinking myself into a gin martini-induced coma. The next morning, I woke up hung over, forgetful and regretful. He didn't call me again.
Hindsight is always 20/20, and had I known on that date the things I know now, I might have been better armed with witty anecdotes and funny stories rather than the constitution of a lightweight and the ability to make a complete ass of myself.
But whatever will be will be.
Then for lunch today, I found myself in a quaint French bistro, with good people and good conversation. And while I was not serenaded by a middle-aged minstrel, I did take a moment to add a new French word to my lexicon: coquette. A coquette is a woman who makes teasing sexual or romantic overtures. (Synonyms include flirt, vamp, minx and/or tease.) While the word does have negative connotations, it also describes my American view of most French women: they are leggy, beautiful, usually brunette with olive-toned skin, thin and exotic.
What is it about French women that allures even me - a bona fide heterosexual - to them?
I recently read in a New York Times article that French women find American women's obsession with tans, plastic surgery, daisy dukes, bling and the color orange to be disgusting. Of course, the French think that most things Americans do are revolting, but these women have something over and above the women on this side of the pond.
The article went on to say that rather than being preoccupied with the color orange, French women obsess over their pores (making sure they are miniscule), perfume and lingerie. I like this. You see, the thing about perfume is that it lingers; it stays in the air after someone disappears; it stays on the sheets. It is sexy rather than sexually explicit.
The art of wooing, of romancing, of seducing, of making love, of the affair is intrinsically French. Although one could easily argue that an affair hits on the Good Decision / Bad Decision theme (i.e. so much fun / so immoral), these women are thinner and live longer than Americans. So maybe they have something.
My entire life I have tried to operate under the manifesto that you can't see it all now, but you might soon; a game of temptation and raised hormones. I do not know how often I am successful at providing a peek show rather than a walk through Amsterdam's Red Light District, but I hope that I usually end up more Brigitte Bardot than Britney Spears.
So I have decided that I am going to search deep within my German-Irish-American self and find a piece of France. All week, I have been practicing by wearing red lipstick and scarves seeing if I can be natural, confident and just a touch exotic. This exercise is not to put on airs and pretend to be something I am not. Rather, I am hoping to cultivate whatever piece of me might resemble a coquette. If this ends up being one of my infamous Bad Decisions, then at least I will have learned how to properly wear red lipstick without getting it on my teeth.
Then again, whatever will be will be.
• "A Single Serving" appears second and fourth Mondays every month, exclusively in Lumino Magazine. E-mail Melissa at m.koss@yahoo.com.
