Language of Love? Fake Flirting in Paris

For the last few days I’ve been trying to blend in and look as Parisian as possible when I’m in these cute non-touristy neighborhoods. Blazer and scarf, check. Skinny jeans, check. Blunt bangs, check! And of course I keep my mouth shut so my bland American accent and lack of French vocabulary doesn’t give me away. So on a few separate occasions, I’ve had some cute French guys approach me (let’s face it, everyone’s cute when you have a french accent), look me in the eyes with these meaningful hand movements and say something that I can’t understand at all. It’s probably something like, “You have something on your face” or “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you stepped in dog poo back there.” But to me, its something dreamy like, “You are stunning and Paris pales in comparison to your beauty” or “my day has just been made after seeing your smile.” So naturally, I blush, giggle like a school girl, and walk away with a huge, clueless smile on my face. Hey, it’s my daydream! Es, I totally wish you were here to interpret, you would love it, and I wouldn’t have to be such a moron! Miss you, E!

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