Sunday, January 20, 2008

Why my ass is like the Mona Lisa

I received an e-mail on OkCupid today from a Québecois francophone, wondering if I'd be interested in getting together sometime, maybe speaking some French over a drink. Fantastique, I thought. I labored over my response en français, double-checking my spelling and grammar. I finally clicked send, only to be informed that Monsieur Québecois francophone had taken it upon himself to select three questions that I would be required to answer before my e-mail could be sent. Merde, I thought. Quel hassle. But fine, let's see what we have here...

I opened the first question and sighed. My bristles were already up from him making me jump through hoops, but it got worse: each question was a three-parter, making it essentially nine questions I would have to answer before I could send the e-mail and move on to more important things, namely, lunch. The first question was some b.s. about how you would want your ideal partner to support you if you had a difficult assignment or project. Then, how would your ideal partner answer this question? Then, how important is this question to you? The second question was more of the same. I just want to get some coffee, dude, I thought. Why do I feel like we're already in couples therapy? But fine, whatever. Only one (three-part) question to go and I'm home-free, I thought. And then I read this:

Umm, pardon?

Wait, really? You're serious? I looked for a response to indicate "none of your damn beeswax," or even an "at this rate you're never going to find out," but there was none. Eff this, I thought. I'm not answering this. I tried to bypass it without submitting a response, and this is what it said:

In that case, sorry Monsieur Québecois francophone, you lose. Pas de rendez-vous for you. It's not that I'm a prude, per se, it's just that I like to think of my ass as the Mona Lisa: a work of art, to be sure, and yet inscrutable and shrouded in mystery (or at least until the third date). Plus, I find it un peu bizarre to be discussing la pénétration anale while we're still addressing each other by the more formal vous pronoun.

A word of advice to confused single guys out there: order of operations is important. Asking a girl her deepest most innermost thoughts on anal sex before even meeting her is equivalent to her asking you on a first date how you feel about kids. More specifically how you feel about five kids, and more specifically three girls and two boys and their names all start with J because that's just exactly what I want and I plan on having them all before the age of 36 because I read somewhere that your fertility drops dramatically after that. It's all just premature information.

Premature information! Not as commonly discussed, but just as bad as the...other...premature...thing. A word of advice, guys; just remember the three D's: dinner, drinks, DO NOT TALK ABOUT ANAL SEX. Oh, and the other...thing? Don't do that either. And you should be just fine.


  1. Did we not warn you about playing on the Internet without regard for noun form, tense, or mood? I mean, some men are just out for one thing. I thought you should know that. Et ... je suis sûr que vos fesses sont belles.

  2. Michel! Mais...tu parles français! Or should I say vous parlez français? This is why English is my first language.

  3. This. This is why I left my hometown of Montreal after 40 years.

    Well, it's not really the reason I left home (I got married and it turns out I have to actually live where my husband does) but, yeah, you get the point.

  4. You know, I have to say, that its been a while since I have been the dating pool....and oh my goodness, is this the standard? Asking about anal sex, and how do men honestly think this is acceptable in any way possible. If I were you, I would send that guy that link to your blog. LOL! Let him know what we all think of him. ha ha ha ha......Have a great week Rachel!!!

  5. Speak French? Oh, just enough to get around Paris. You know, like "Y a-t-il des vierges ici?" And "Où est mon calendrier?"

    Just kidding! A little high school French, spiced by several trips to France over the years.

    I saw Charles De Gaulle once. In Paris. He was quite old, I was very young. True story.

  6. So you're saying it's a French-Canadian thing, Dawn? Good to know. I'll steer clear in the future.

  7. Or maybe it's just a guy thing and I found one of the nice ones? I'm not sure.

    By the way, if you want to speak "proper" French, don't practice with a French-Canadian. Quebecois French is so bastardized that the REAL French (such as in Paris) don't even understand it. Seriously. When I was in Paris and spoke French, they asked me to speak English. I kid you not.

  8. I have no comment, except it could have been worse. You could have met him for coffee, and he could have asked you in person.

  9. That's my Grumpy. Always looking on the bright side! :)

  10. Wait a minute! You "tu"-ed me up there. You can't take it back, which means we're practically engaged, and that means I have conjugal rights. I demand my rights. Nothing will happen prematurely, I guarantee. (At my edge, quite the opposite trend is noted, to be honest.) Anyway, we'll speak to your father at spring break. How many camels would he be wanting for his first-born?

  11. At my "edge" I've lost my edge and can no longer write English, either, apparently. The word was "age." Which is why the concept of anything's happening conjugally is laughable. Goodby.

  12. I agree with Grumpy. Sometimes the things guys say might seem like TMI, but it's best to hear about the Crazy early on. I once went on a fairly fun date, but wrote the guy off after he didn't call for a week. Then he called, apologized, and said he had been on a crystal meth binge. As creepy as it was to hear, I figured it was a good thing for me that he didn't have an internal filter.

  13. Yes, Grumpy does tend to look on the bright side...

    of HELL!

    (i can say that - i'm his sister and I love him!)

    (I'm so reading your entire blog - hope you don't think I'm a stalker :)