The Ass Plan

Okay. A week ago, I signed up for an online dating website in the hope of finding a man. Well, not only have I discovered quite a few members of the male variety on said website but I also am starting to believe that I'm completely wasting my time getting a little dismayed with the whole concept of internet dating websites. I honestly feel like a prospector who is fruitlessly panning among dirt to perhaps someday find a valuable and priceless diamond.


So far, I've been hit on by complete duds (and no, not "dudes"). I don't mean to be so unkind but these duds range from being young men to old guys to really, really old guys...and what is worse, most of them openly admit that all they want is le plan cul.


What's that, you ask? Literally translated, le plan cul means "the Ass Plan," and the idea is that you hook up with someone strictly for sex. It can be equated to a regular one-night stand, but I get the idea that it can also apply to a couple who proceed to hump each other on several occasions. These open admissions, of course, chip away at what little faith I already have in humankind.




Remember the creepy old guy I met on the bus? Well, now it seems that I encounter the internet version of him at least 5 times a day...









I mean, this is supposed to be a dating website, for crying out loud. Surely, Frenchmen would look elsewhere if they wanted to have sexual relations with a woman, right?

Just today, I chatted with a 24-year-old who said his name was Maxime. This is a rough approximation of the conversation we had.


Maxime: Bonjour.


Me: Bonjour.


Maxime: My name's Maxime. What's yours?


Me: Mmmm...I'm not quite ready to divulge that information with you yet. ^.^




Maxime: Lol. Okay I understand.


So, what are you looking for on this website?



Me: Well, I'm not sure.


I'm at a point in my life where I want to focus on ameliorating myself. I have goals that I want to meet and I cannot be distracted from reaching them.


Still, I think my desires are pretty conflicting with my goals...




Maxime: Ah, really? Do tell!




Me: Well...this perhaps is a bit personal but the last time I opened my heart to someone, it resulted in me being badly hurt. On top of that, I ended up becoming distracted from my goals. I began to place his needs before mine.


It was stupid to do that but that's how the heart reacts when you're in love.




Maxime: So, what you're saying is that you want to have a physical desire fulfilled but to not be emotionally attached to the person?


Me: No, that's not quite it.




Maxime: I'm not talking about sentimental involvement...just pleasure?




Me, thinking: (Fuck you, Maxime...)


No, I don't want that either.



Maxime: Oh, that's too bad. Ha ha.




Me, thinking: ("Ha ha" your ass, loser.)


Ha, ha. Yeah, le plan cul isn't for me. I crave something more than that.


Maxime: Well, yes, we all need something more but I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't interested in that as well.


Me: I can imagine. I think I'm just going to live each day as it comes.


*logs off*



Ugh. It really disgusts me how people feign interest and concern only to mask their ulterior motives.


I'm sincerely beginning to wonder why these French losers have been so forward about searching for an Ass Plan with me. I have heard that (unfortunately) Frenchmen believe that American girls are "easy," so perhaps they think that I am ready to willingly jump on top of them in blink of an eye?

Beware of the Frenchman who describes himself as "living to enjoy life." To him, that may mean that he's interested in sleeping with as many women as possible. And I really don't call that living.

Barb the French Bean

Happy Halloween!

...Or maybe not...




[crickets chirping]




Wait. What's that, you say?




[crickets chirp out explanation]





You say that Halloween was yesterday? Huh. Are you sure about that?

[Crickets: "We're sure. Check your calendar, lady."]




*Looks at calendar, sees that today is the first of November*




Oh. It was. [sheepish chuckle from blogger]




[Crickets raise eyebrows and give said blogger a rather reprimanding look]





What? Don't look at me like that! It's not my fault that I totally forgot about Halloween!





I mean, I actually have a plausible excuse for not remembering Halloween. I'm now in a country that shows a significant lack of enthusiasm, even apathy, for the event. I honestly wouldn't have been able to assume that something was supposed to have happened yesterday.




NO ONE asked me what I was planning to wear for Halloween.



NO ONE bothered to compare their costume to mine, probably they didn't have one in the first place.



In fact, the only thing that truly suggested that Halloween was just around the corner were certain chocolate stores that wanted to profit off the occasion.




This is the window display of a store in the Centre Ville:

Okay, okay. I admit that this should have been a big, fat hint that Halloween was going to happen soon. Yet...not every store relished in decorating their shops with black cats, Jack O' Lanterns and ghosts. It's almost as if Halloween was strictly limited to just candy shops and Carrefour.

I decided to ask a French friend about it. His response?

You can't really argue with a Frenchman's logic. In France, Halloween is the day that some kids to dress up in scary costumes and demand for candies and treats (des bonbons). Unlike in the States where you can dress up in anything that strikes your fancy, the kids disguise themselves in things they consider scary; you are more likely to find a little Frenchgirl dressed up as a witch than a cutesy ballerina in a pink costume. You'll also have a hard time finding a French 20-something dressed up in the typical coquettish costumes adults prefer (at least on Halloween, anyway).

(And before I get accused of being a Candy Corn Witch hater: I admit that this is the costume I have secretly wanted to wear for years. I haven't tried it out because I honestly wouldn't "rock it." Trust me on this.)

Even though France isn't serious about Halloween that doesn't mean that you shouldn't be prepared in case a group of costumed children do knock on your door. The last thing you want to do is to give off "no-candy douchebag" vibes to a bunch of little kids. My roommate was smart enough to purchase a large bag of candies. Our doorbell was rung only ONCE. My roommate and I are now the proud owners of a large bowl of candies...

But wait. Today's November first. And quite a few shops are closed!

*rechecks calendar*

Aujourd'hui est la Toussaint!

In la Belle France, the citizens take part in the decidely more la Toussaint (All Saint's Day). It's a day that is rooted in being part religious, part tradition, but mostly respect. Today, a good number of Frenchmen and Frenchwomen will visit the cemetaries where their deceased relatives are buried and pay their respects to them by placing a bouquet of flowers on their graves. Despite being a secular country, France sure enjoys their religious events. To the best of my knowledge, no one in my family is buried over here so la Toussaint is pretty much means another day off for me.

So...I guess I will wish you all a respectful la Toussaint?

Barb the French Bean

Whatever You Do, Do Not Turn Around

In spirit of a quick approaching Halloween, I decided to divulge a frightful event that happened to me when I was only about 12 years old.

I had gone to visit my grandparents in Peru (yes, I am Peruvian) to spend my summer there, and during that time my other cousins had gone to visit my grandparents as well. From time to time my grandparents would go entertain themselves in the casino, which exists on every damn corner of Peru.

One night, my grandparents decided to take me and my cousin out for some fun, but it all ended too quickly when they decided to go to the casino for a few minutes, leaving my cousin and I in the car.It was a nice night out, but of course I was stuck in the car with a 6 year old, who had nothing better to do than to bother my very existence. As I waited for my grandparents to return to the car, I decided to talk to my cousin, which required me to turn my back to the side window.
Forgetting all too quickly that I was waiting for my grandparents, my cousin looked past me, outside the side window I was leaning on, and horror struck her face. Noticing her face, I turned around to see what had made her widen her eyes, and I screamed in fright.





I will never forget what I saw.




It was a sight I did not expect to see, it was that of a figure who stared inside the car with a hard face.



and then...




the figure....




started to laugh.



Then I heard my cousin laugh as I realized that the figure that was staring inside the car was only my grandmother coming to check-up on us.

I felt a sense of relief, but I also felt embarrassed that I did not realize sooner that it was my grandmother.

So the next time you find yourself in the back seat of a car with your back to the side window, I recommend that whatever you do, do not turn around because eventually someone you know will try to scare you or it might just be the axe murderer...

Happy Halloween!

Hanny the Coffee Bean

The TEF is Tough

Yesterday, I took the initiative and enrolled for the Test d'Evaluation de Français (TEF for short).

Right about now, you may examine the lengthy title and decipher a certain meaning based on the similarities to the words in English. "Okay," you may ask, "is it a test that evaulates your level of French?"

You are correct, my friend!


(Johnny says you've won the satisfaction that you were right.)

This exam places its takers through a series of rigorous listening, writing, and oral comprehension sections to determine just how badly they can communicate in French. Each candidate can be classified into six categories:

A1 and A2 (your French ranges from beginner to just above basic)

B1 and B2 (your French doesn't make native speakers cringe too much)

C1 and C2 (Uh, you are remarkably fluent. Are you sure you're not French???)

Based on your result, you are awarded a certificate that proclaims the level you've achieved. Technically, there is no way to fail this test because it is not a question of being right or wrong; it's about being able to express your thoughts and opinions in French.

So, why I am I taking this test? Why is my knowing what my classification is so important to me? Is it for the sheer pleasure to gloat that I speak French well?


NO.

I am taking the TEF because I have a slightly more ambitious goal in mind: to continue my studies to become an English teacher in France. I've looked at various French university websites and very often one of the requirements for foreigners is that they possess a TEF certificate that states they have at minimum a B2 level of working French (but they recommend that we have C1).

I'm not gonna lie: this petrifies me. I have not taken an exam since the summer of 2009 when I completed the last course for my B.A. On top of that, I have noticed with much alarm that my French has indeed digressed. I'd like to blame the 4 months I spent alternating between speaking Spanish with my family and watching The Office in English in Miami.

Let's bring back the handy-dandy Conne cone ...

However, there is no turning back for me. I've already paid the fees. 80 euros for the standard test and 35 euros for the "optional" written exam (some universities require this as well). I am now short 115 euros...but I sincerely hope that this becomes one of those expensive investments that will later pay off in the end. I at least have given myself a monetary incentive to study for it, mainly because I do not wish to feel like I've wasted my time and money!

Yes, the TEF claims that there is no way I could possibly fail the exam, but if I do not at least acquire a B2 (or even a C1), then I can see only view it as a failure. Such is the American mindset of winning and losing... I only have until November 18th to brush up on such wonderful grammar gems like the plus-que-parfait de l'indicatif and the subjonctif après certaines conjonctions.

Barb the French Bean

Well, I Caved in and Did It.

I'm 23 years old and I've given up hope on finding the elusive Mr. Right, A.K.A. Prince Charming. I am fairly convinced that the Disney Prince Charming that was hammered into my brain as a little girl is really just a big farce that has completely distorted my perception of what I should look for in a man.





I'm not saying I haven't encountered my fair share of men. I've met plenty of Mr. Oh-So-Wrongs, Mr. HELL NOs, Mr. Way Out of My Leagues and Mr. Ha-Ha, Yeah Rights. And let's not forget Loser Ex-Boyfriend (A.K.A. Mr. What-The-Hell-Were-You-Thinking, Moron?).

I've been told several times that I shouldn't look for love. Love will come to me. I shouldn't waste my time searching for the Right One. The Almighty and Most Sacred Right One will just magically appear before my eyes when I least expect him to.

Whatever. I'm sick of that bullshit. I caved in and signed up for a dating website. It was a bit bizarre having to write a profile for myself, and in French, no less.

I'm still a bit wary about the whole experience, but we'll see how that goes...

Barb the French Bean

My French Obsessions (#1): Vine-Covered Buildings

Thanks to my sickness-induced cabin fever (I've decided to sagely stay at home until I feel well enough to go outside), I commenced as some form of amusement sifting through some of the recent photographs I have taken with my trusty Canon PowerShot A530.

While admiring these pictures and dreaming of the day when I would finally feel in excellent health, a wave a nostalgia kicked in.

I then started to dig through some older photographs from my various trips around France last year and this springtime.

Semur-en-Auxois (La Bourgogne)




(Not Semur, but it's in Burgundy.)




Le Castellet (South of France)






Bougainvillea in Bormes-les-Mimosas (South of France)

Windmill that is somewhere in Montmartre (Paris)



Back in Burgundy

Flavigny (La Bourgogne)

Once I feel like I've got kick-butt stamina again, I will travel a bit. As it is, I am now on what will be my first set of school holidays: La Toussaint. I won't start working again until November 4th (Hey, that's my Mom's birthday! I gotta mail her a card!) so I had better take advantage of my SNCF 12-25 card to explore a bit of la Bourgogne.

That is, of course, assuming the trains are no longer on strike...

Barb the French Bean