Following on from the events of my last two posts, I decided it was high time that I tried out the lesbian scene in Paris. So a couple of weeks ago I hopped the TGV to civilization to meet a couple of friends and check out the bars.

I was curious about French women, compared to the men, as some of the Erasmus girls here have ended up being literally stalked by guys they have kissed here – we’re talking 40 texts before morning- so with the pre-existing reputation that lesbians have for U-hauling after day one, I’ll admit I was intrigued (and slightly worried)!

Anyway, we first went to Banana Bar, which is a ‘boy’ bar, but was good craic, and then decided to go dancing with the large gang of gay boys we were out with. However, the LGBT scene in Paris is so segregated that even with 14 boys, the 3 of us weren’t allowed in. Probably for the best though, I’m not sure I really wanted to go to a club with a shower and dark room anyway…

La Troisième Lieu (right) was the next stop (and the last stop as it turned out, there was some pretty awesome music that had to be danced to). Filled to the brim with every sort of girl imaginable, it seemed like a good spot to hang out. However, it didn’t have the same feeling of being able to chat to randomers in the smoking area, like you would in Dublin.

A few hours into the night, a girl walked up behind me, and said “Pardon” so I stepped aside, thinking that she wanted to move out of her way or something. A few seconds later she was still there beside me, so I put on my best confused face and said “Salut?”. Then in English (but in a lovely French accent) she said:

“My friend would like  your number”

I have been reliably informed that I really looked like a deer in the headlights at that point, because I have NO idea how one reacts to that situation, I haven’t been asked ‘for a friend’ since I was 14 and attending the ‘youth discho’ in the Roscommon GAA hall! And even then it was some boy sidling up to you on the dance floor, elbowing you, leaning over to your ear and asking, in his oh-so-romantic way:

“Will you shift my friend?!”

Which invariably lead to the following conversation:

“No…”

“Ah go on!”

“Um…no”

“Why?!”

“I…um…don’t want to…”

“Ok….will you shift me so?”

“No…you’re grand, cheers…”

Back to the night in question,. I figured I should ask who her friend was, and she pointed out a very cute girl, so I handed over the number. As you do. Except that as soon as I agreed to give her my number, I realised that I don’t actually know my number over here, so had to just give her my phone and let her take it. So that was mildly embarrassing…

Once she had saved the number, she gave me a big smile and said that her friend would text me, and wandered off to hand over  the number. The friend also looked happy, but then in true teenage disco style, she spent the rest of the evening studiously avoiding looking in my direction. It was comedy gold!

Needless to say, she hasn’t texted. This is disappointing, because I was DYING to see how she would attempt to open a conversation having sent her friend for the number.

Oh France!

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