De Ce Monde Secret de l’ Amelie Americaine

A couple of days ago I check out a movie from the library of the French Institute called La Bûche; a wonderfully real take on a “dysfunctional” family as they come together to celebrate the holidays. Of course in classic french tradition, the elderly father had a mistress, with whom he fathered a son. The mother had a series of affairs of her own to enact revenge, which led to her third daughter being fathered by another man. Their grown children play out their parts of the family’s moral dilemma, as one daughter becomes the cheated on, bitter, yet pampered house wife and another becomes a middle aged bohemian who spent most of her child bearing years as the mistress to a married salesman, who already had four children and a pregnant wife.

The irony that the film ended up in my DVD player this week was not lost on me. There was nothing in the title that would of clued me into the subject when I rented it, but there it was, a representation of my own inner dilemma. There were so many questions that had been left unanswered. So much politeness through quasi-truthful emails sent across the Atlantic, written on another computer, in another room, in another city, where I had never been. I barely knew this person, yet, he had struck a nerve. He’d chatted me up by putting a little hook in my comment box. It was spontaneous and unexpected. I’m not so “provincial” or American that I stand, with arms crossed, shaking my finger in judgement. That would be too easy. I wanted to know him. He excited me. He had all the major attributes that I found attractive. He was employed, personable, appreciative of my art work, and most importantly, he seemed to have an inner life, a sense of creativity and adventure that was self driven. In other words, he didn’t strike me as someone who had to go with the crowd. He could be alone.

This was important, because I’ve spent the better part of the last two years going about NYC with friends and co-workers, and little love life. A date or two, but no true romance. My ex-lover had been very passionate, and the fire went away as quickly as it was lit. I’m looking for the enduring flame, not the consuming one. It’s important to say, because my friend who is a believer in all those self-help programs reminded me that if I keep saying just no, then I’ll keep getting the same unless I focus on what I do want. I want my Colin Firth, not anymore Hugh Grants. And, let’s put it this way, Le Homme-Grenouille kind of even looked like that faithful, hotty in Bridget Jones, complete with the wavy dark hair, and slightly geeky ears. I was putty.

It’s important to note that we exchanged photos. His included two of himself (alone), his cat (no kids), images of various travels (landscapes mostly), and work. Not very scandalous at all. There was even one of a breakfast table overlooking a magnificent view WITH A SINGLE PLACE-MAT SETTING. Pouting a bit in a hot bubble bath last night, I had to ask myself, “How was I suppose to know?”

My first clue, was that it seemed like he only emailed me at work. Hmmm. Then I looked at his photo and realized he was too well dressed. Yes, it might be a stereotype but a man who is that well put together is either 1) gay, 2) rich enough to hire a stylist, or 3) has a nice wife who chooses his clothes for him.

The fantasy came to a close a few nights ago when the information came out that he had in fact been in New York on his honeymoon more than a decade ago, (still no direct reference or admission that he is, yes indeed, married). I was a little disappointed and confused. Had it all been a huge misunderstanding? Or is it just a cultural difference? All this talk of french men and their mistresses. Maybe he was just looking for his. Maybe this is why la femme francaise is so well put together, so as to not reveal the crack in her dignity. Or maybe she doesn’t look at it that way at all. According to this article today in the International Herald Tribune only a few per cent of European men have mistresses. I don’t know anymore. Would someone explain it to me?

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