Thursday, February 01, 2007

.... but the French I do love

There are some subjects that I avoid on this blog. Not that you would know, cause well, I don’t mention them. I talk dodgy, but I never go into details of personal ‘dodginess’, if you will.

But sometimes, there are moments that I wish to share. But at the same time negotiate it with the desire to hold so close to me a memory and experience. I become caught and confused. And so, all that can be called for is to type. And as a result, you get a taste of it all, and my thoughts that are guided by the title…

FUCK but I love the French.

Those men that Gallic myths are made of.

To try to explain it to a man who just wants to rack up his orgasms or chicks laid would be impossible. It is speaking between two mindsets. Two languages of a woman’s being that can’t translate one another.

A Frenchman does not want SEX from you.

He wants YOU.

Every single piece and scent and taste and inch of you.

He is OBSESSED with YOU.

And he shows it in the way that he kisses you. It reads perfectly through. Sure there are the looks and the off-handed divine comments about you. About how he is jealous of some man who does not even want you. Or that you are gorgeous when you flick your hair in that way over one shoulder. Or that he would not go to a restaurant with his good friend, because ‘that is Champs’s restaurant’.

The kiss. The tasting and communicating and feeling. And through his obsession with you, you become obsessed with the moment. Nothing at all matters. Especially the people around you passing, who you have to ask for directions, or to fix a key, pay for a bill.

Some other men try to replicate this, but it seems to come off as desperation. A Frenchman of this type is not desperate. Hell, he probably made love to another woman hours or days before in some other city. Once, his wife was in the apartment upstairs from his Provencal restaurant, where you two were locked in, arguing about the improbability of anything happening. While he runs his hand down the side of your incensed resisting body. While he talks so rapidly in French you do not know what his argument is, not that you even have to hear it to understand him. Until you run out of that small eaterie as you know your resistance is all but nearly up, him a few heated steps behind until you both crash into friends in your haste, and he departs, and you grunt a frustrated helloandgoodbye to them, and land a confused bluddy hard kick on a nearby pole before disappearing your opposite way.

At the moment that he kisses you, that the two of you don’t even make it from the front door on a Sunday night in a dead quiet African capital, it is because only YOU exist to him.

And so you accept his other reality. Cynical love, if you will.

Or so I wanted to make myself believe. That it was as simple and callous perhaps as that. I keep learning, yesterday again, that it is not that simple. A Frenchman is not into a quick shag. He is into you.

There is so much more to this recent story. To giggling, and obsession, to holding each other so tightly in an attempt to climb into that person in anyway possible. To the waiter shaking his head at the ridiculous personal jokes you two try to include him in on. To trying to relax. Urgency yet delayed relishing. To trying to sleep. Or when you jointly decide that this is not happening anymore. That he leaves. Again. Again and again and again. And your stomach aches. And your friends sms to ask how you are, before you even contact them.

Because they know you are completely and obsessively in love with a gorgeously accented matching idealed silly personalitied hot blooded man many miles and hours and lives away.

And that his moment of obsession is over with you, for now.


Anonymous said...

That is one of the most beautiful posts you have ever written.

Phlippy said...

Ummmm, wow. That was awesome, Champers, I only hope that you do not learn to hate the French the same way you have come to love them. And I am glad one man has been such an amazing ambassador. A bientot j'espere

Phlippy said...

The funny thing is, there are always different facets to a persons personality and character. Most French men will have these traits, but it always depends on the person. I have had two of my French girlfriends read this now and they agree to a large extent with what you have written. I can read this post over and over. Stunningly written and makes me smile inside.

noodle said...


Now I know Kylies secret.

Does the frenchman have a brother?

Peas on Toast said...

OK, firstly Champers: right on girl! The FRENCH completely rule. Please make this known to my Italian flatmate, btw.

I had a French boyfriend for three months when I lived in France. Not only did he cook me fabulous meals, and carry my backpack all the way up the Arc de Triomphe for my benefit, he was funny and brilliant and academic and, and, and. It ended because he lived in Paris and I did not.

However, that said: FRench men cannot 'just be friends.' So I have to disagree about the not wanting to sleep with you thing. I tried hard to keep some of the guys I got to know in my city as pally-old-pals, but they would have none of it. Either I had t shag them or the deal was off.
However, it WAS different in my relationship. No pressure, but to say the least: THEY REALLY ARE THE BEST IN THE SACK AREN'T THEY?

He also had the most beautiful face. His legs weren't anything to write home about, but he was simply lovely.
Sigh. Long live the French!

Phlippy said...

@ Peas - hey, I am loving the fact that my nation is wel thought of. Funny enough a law was passed yesterday that banned smoking in public places, the restaurants and bars have been given a years grace. Will be funny to see how the Parisians take to that. ;-)

Michelle said...

Damn. Now I want a Frenchman...

Phlippy said...

I am loving todays post even more now Champers XXX ;-)

muddlepuddle said...

Champs I'm printing you a tshirt to wear out and about eJoz:

"Got French?"

Champagne Heathen said...

Jamaloni - thank you! It is amazing what one can write at midnight when trying to get thoughts out of your head so you can fall asleep.

Phlippy, mon petit truffle, I think you owe me big time! I think I am becoming your PR lady. The funny thing was when I lived in France I ended up hating french boys. But that's cause I think they were still boys about things.

And thanks for your sweet words, that made me smile.

Noodle - there is a whole nation of them just waiting for us! He does actually have a brother. A bit too young though.

Peas - unfortunately for me, he & I are going to be trying the 'only friends thing'. This comes with a rule on his side that we cannot consume more than half a bottle of wine between the two of us when in each other's company. I'm sure you'll receive 2am sms's should events change.

I think you, me, jamaloni, and noodle need to take a trip to dear old Paris!

Phlippy - Peas is a frenchie too!! As for that law, I remember them trying to start it when I was there iin '04. I don't think the frenchies even blinked at the absurdity of it becoming a reality. Interesting to hear it actually got passed.

Michelle...joining us to the land of the Gaels then?

Muddle - HA HA HA HA!!!

Peas on Toast said...

Yip Phlippy - I'm a Frenchie as well, mon p'tit trouffe!

But bordel - the Parisians aren't going to take to the non-smoking thing at all. I see another stroming of the Bastille coming along. It's just not going to work. Ever. said...

Suddenly I am French!

Champagne Heathen said...

Peas - I can't even see them rioting for this one. I just see them puffing & poo-poo'ing smoke at the very absurd idea! But then again, this is the french, they'll probably riot!

Robs - I meant to add a clause that Namib men often apply to this phenomenon too!

Phlippy said...

@ Peas - it is good to be French, esp if we have been brought up French with the associated customs, riituals and mannerisms. That makes it extra special.

@ Robert - Dude, I laughed I almost sharted. I love your work

@ Champers - Have you read any French poetry? My favourite is Le Jardin by Jacques Prevert. Find it, enjoy ;-)

Peas on Toast said...

Phlippy - do you do the whole Gallette de Roi thing as well?
I also think the Catholic thing comes into play here too: at my mum's we eat fish on Friday. But we always drink wine with our meals, and we regularly eat rougaille and ratatouille. Not to mention endive. (Eek - not a fan).
And I love talking French with my grandmere.

Phlippy said...

@ Peas - I LOVE endive. Very sharp taste though but goes fantastically well with a traditional vinagrette. Because my step dad isn't French we do not follow the traditions to the full extent - although I have been educated in it. When my father visits from France we tend to make him feel comfy and recognise tradition. I love speaking to my maman in French though. Wine is definitely with the meals. I have also found a local supplier of French wines... very nice :-)

Champagne Heathen said...

Hmmm, I am not too certain how you 2 are thinking that all such talk is gonna help me get over my gorgeous Frenchie, but I will keep watching with interest.

I did that Gallette de Roi thing!!It was great fun. We got completely pissed, then me & my Danish friend stumbled down 5 spiralled flights of 17th Century stairs singing the Beach Boys "Round Round, I get a Round". The neighbours were NOT impressed, except for the Spaniards on the ground floor.

I miss Aix.

I miss my Marseillian.

What is endive???

Phlippy - and you have only seen a small percent of Rob's work. A frenchman, he could be!

Revolving Credit said...

While this all sounds really great, the reality is that he has left again.

If he really was '..OBSESSED with YOU' he'd still be here.

So you have a choice: live from visit to visit, revelling in the time spent and suffering the departure and longing.
(This does seem somewhat self destructive)

or choose to move on while retaining fond memories. I'm sure there any many other French fish in the sea.

(The least he could have done was to aquiesce and bang you up against that windpomp dammetjie on the way back from the Berg)

Champagne Heathen said...

Rev - ja ja, I know. This I all know WELL. That is why we are trying to only be friends when he does come to town. And I once did try to give him & the memories of him up. But he came back. Life's like that.

He wasn't with me in the berg, but had there been a windpomp in the Michaelangelo, I am certain he would have obliged to my request of've said too much...

Phlippy said...

OK, sorry Champers, off the Peas and me discussion. Back to our man, just take sexy / naked photos of yourself and start mms sex with him. that way you come a little closer to the real thing than you currently are.... very far still... but it is kinda kinky. Although it may rove eternally frustrating

ChewTheCud said...

Is this not perhaps a consequence of the french women?

Revolving Credit said...

"More than 40,000 parasites and 250 types of bacteria are exchanged during a French kiss"

He was French,right??

Do you get tongue condoms???

lordwiggly said...

I tried to be French once. I played soccer really badly, ate a snail and didn't shower for 4 days. It didn't work for some reason, not a single girl swooned. Maybe I should have worn my tongue condom? Phlippy help me out here bud, do I need to eat massive amounts of garlic, humus and vinegar too?

lordwiggly said...

Hee hee ties in perfectly with Infinites blog, real friends stab you in the front ;o)

Champagne Heathen said...

Phlippy - I reckon that would lead me to closer insanity than satisfaction. I like to supress all thoughts of his existance as soon as possible, until he arrives back at Oli Tambo airport again.

Chews - what? That frenchmen are so wonderful? Naaa, I reckon it is in their genes (I feel like I am just setting myself up for some pun remarks with that!)

Revs - You trying to explain to me why I was sick yesterday?? Unfortunately, the way in which a french kiss is practiced, one might need a dental dam rather just some latex over your tongue.

WigglyLord - ja ja ja. Even with all the garlic & showering issues & smelly cheese and smoke and all, they still are above so many other nationalities in attraction. Makes you realise how INCREDIBLE they are when they are all cleaned up!

Anonymous said...

touche, mr scatterling, touche.

Her Infinite Cuteness said...

I can see the headlines now "South African Women attack male french tourists" Gives a whole new meaning to storming the bastille...

Wiggles - love it, love it...

Champs - all I can say is WOW and it was lucky no french men were close by. and again WOW.

Anonymous said...

Mon dieu! Suddenly I am stil French wiz no dezire to be anyzing elze while zis mood it stayz wiz Mz Champs Elysse'!

Champagne Heathen said...

Anon - the same anon from yesterday? Is this anon going to develop a nickname so I can id you each time?? And most NB....are you french??

Cutie - well why thank you!! And yes, best those frenchies at Oli Tambo Arrivals just beware for the next few weeks!

Rob - a Namib nomad in the UK wishing he was french...I am fearing a identity crisis soon!


Anonymous said...

French Smench

Champagne Heathen said...

Mais pourquoi, le petit descendre chou?? Which nationality do you prefer?

Anonymous said...

Why not.
I'd have to say Brazilian...

Anonymous said...

just been to lazy to sign it - 302.

Champagne Heathen said...

Anon - yes yes, but you gotta keep explaining. Why? Men or women? Afterall, it's not like your name gives much genderising away!

Numero - Hey! What do you mean you're too lazy!

Anonymous said...

to slack to type in my username and password - anyway i've got a side project - go check it out, bounce from the blog to the more champagne + stuff - it allows comments.


# 302 said...

sorry left you a couple of comments on two different posts anon.

not french - what's that all about? i'm an african although i have a weakness those almond croissants.

bon weekend.

Anonymous said...

As someone seriously involved with a Frenchman, I have to very much agree. I have never dated someone before who meant the phrase "I love YOU." as much as he does.

Plus, there is certainly some truth to them being the best lovers.