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Another enlightened me on his intentions in my own language: “Oh…I never thought that I would use this, but ‘Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

“Mmmmh, this accent…,” he said in a voice that can only be described as pervy.

While we were talking, we ran into a few misunderstandings. That’s taller than most of the women in France.” Imagine my surprise when I found out that it meant “baby” and not “You’re a dwarf.”Obviously, the date wasn’t a huge success. After trying on a couple of shoes, as we say, a couple of men fit better, but things didn’t necessarily become less challenging.

As I went to order a beer, he stopped me and said, “Wait, shorty.” To me, this sounded like the worst insult. I couldn’t help myself from overthinking and panicking a bit after a few months of dating someone here—something I never did in France. Here I’m afraid of discovering that after six months of seeing someone, we aren’t actually dating but just messing around.

In response, I got the reassuring “No worries—I’m not a rapist” and a sarcastic “You’re such a nun.”For a (long) minute, I regretted downloading Tinder.

This unashamed sexual pressure was completely new and weird.

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