The Anglosluts guide to bagging a Frenchman...but not keeping him!

This year the British singer Jessie J released a song entitled "Do It Like A Dude"...personally I think the song is shit but some of the lyrics make me chuckle...for example:

Boom Boom, pull me a beer
No pretty drinks, I'm a guy out here
Rollin' rollin' rollin' rollin' money like a pimp
My B I T C H's on my dick like this

So ok it's little crass but it's making a point. It's 2011 and women can have as much sex as she wants to, she craves it, enjoys it and often wants it more than her male partner(s). She can be the one that pulls the condom out from the bedside drawer, she can leave without giving her number the next day and she doesn't have to be the one sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring (although lets be honest, we've all had out hearts in our mouths at some point waiting for that all important text!).

So for all you ladies out there who just want to go out and have no strings attached here is my guide to bagging your Frenchman...but not keeping him!

• First of all (and this is not essential) - be thin! I KNOW!!! That is ridiculously un-feministic of me but it's true. It's never going to be easy to get laid in this City if you have thighs like tree trunks. What's even better is if you are thin but with big (real) boobs - the poor Frenchmen just don't seem to understand how this is possible and will be temporarily facinated.
• Choose your location carefully. Anglo bars seem to be rife with ugly Frenchmen there to pick up "easy" Anglo girls. The few time I have been I have found this to be particullarly true of O'Sullivans on Grands Boulevards. Generally I would say avoid but if you are desperate....
• Your outfit - don't look trashy BUT don't go the Frenchgirl route and be classic either. Short and tight works as does low, but please, do not team these together! Bright colors are a sure way to show off your non-Frenchgirlness, especially in winter when everywhere you look you see drab greys and blacks.
• Drink alcohol, have fun! I'm not saying you have to be dancing on the bar tops but the girl who is laughing is of course going to appear easier to pick up than the girl quietly sipping her one glass of wine over 3 hours! Loud laughing in this city seems to be seriously frowned upon  - fuck it! Smile and be happy!
• Dumb down your level of French (unless he has perfect English). Your Frenchman isn't going to be inclined to introduce you to his friends/family if he thinks you can't communicate with them. So speak English with him and boost his ego by letting him think that is language skills are superior to yours.
• If you want to have sex with him the first night then do it - you're not looking for a husband here.
• Similarly if you want to text him for a 1am booty call then go ahead and do it!
• Make it known that you are avaliable for sex if that's all you are after. Wear your sexiest underwear/stockings/suspenders on the 1st date, not only will he love it but you get to feel like a sex kitten!

The most important point though is be safe! Don't put your sexual health at risk for a quick roll in the sheets and always let a friend know where you are!

Feminists please do not hunt me down and kill me - it's tongue in cheek...honest!

Guillaume Part 2 - When Mr Perfect isn't Mr Right...

For a good couple of days after meeting G my inner thighs hurt like hell...sexercise is absolutely more enjoyabe than the gym and if done right can give just as good as workout. It was a week before I saw Guillaume again. We were supposed to go for drinks the next Saturday but he cancelled at the last minute - needless to say I was NOT impressed, he told me that he had been working like crazy all week and was really tired. I just figured he was blowing me off.
That was until the next day when I got a super apologetic text from him and an invite to lunch...now I know , I know, I should have claimed to have been busy and said no but instead I just asked when did he want me. His reply? 'Now, I want you now!'..Ahhh , swooooooon, I don't even know if he meant it in a sexual way but I certainly took it that way and got myself ready, excited for the day ahead of me.
When I met G at the metro station I was so nervous/excited and when I saw him coming towards me I could have died - he was every bit as beautiful as I remembered and my legs were actually shaking as he greeted me with a bisous. Lunch, what to eat? I like to think of myself as a bit of a feminist but I also wanted to appear attractive to this god-like man and so my internal dilemia about what to eat started...sounds stupid I know but here were my thoughts...

• A good old burger? - Noooo, what if it was greasy and I got grease all over myself? Plus not to mention that I still feel stupid eating burgers the French way i.e. with a knife and fork.
• A salad? - Hmmmm, well it would certainly make me more Frenchgirl-esque but actually I'm not a huge fan of salads, I was hungry and what if I got some lettuce stuck in my teeth?!
• A croque monsieur? (cheese toastie with a fried egg on top for anyone that doesn't know) - Noooooooo....I'll end up with egg yolk all down my front/chin.

In the end I settled for a croque madame (monsieur mais sans egg) while G had steak tartare (so manly!). After lunch we went for a stroll along the Promenade Plantee (an elevated garden) which is a really romantic place to go. I felt like I was walking on air...for over a year with C this is what I had longed for...long romantic strolls round Paris with handholding and lots of kisses. I never once got it and here I was with a guy that I'd known for a week having the full-on boyfriend experience! The perfect day sadly couldn't last forever and I had to leave for some pre-arranged dinner plans with friends. It was hard saying goodbye when all I wanted for G to do was to take me home, throw me on the bed and give me a good seeing to!

Luckily for me I didn't have to wait too long for that.

A couple of days later fueled by my absolute need to have this guy in me again I texted G and said something along the lines of 'it's going to be a cold night, keep me warm?'. Yes, I'm sooooo smooth, but it worked. A short while later I was in his appartment drinking wine with my sexiest blank underwear under my clothes. This is when I started to notice small cracks, I kinda realised that me and G didn't have much in common or alot to talk about. I pushed it to the back of my mind, especially when after a long kiss he placed my hand on top of his big erection and asked if I wanted him as much as he wanted me. What a silly question! Within minutes we were rolling around his bed in our underwear and then another crack appeared (no, not that kind of crack!). I was keen to pleasure this guy and was kindly (so I thought) putting his needs before mine. So there I was on top on him kissing my way doooown when i noticed...argh, no erection anymore! This cock had been rock hard and ready to go only minutes before - what was going on?!? When I expressed my confusion G told me that he 'doesn't like to be dominated'! Wtf?! There were no handcuffs, blindfolds or whips present (sadly!), was he for real?! He was. It passed soon enough though and soon he was fucking me and asking me if I had missed my big toy as well as the delicious French words that drove me wild, comme ca, oh ouiiii! And like the time before it was non-stop, I really have never met a guy who is always so ready to GO...just when I thought it was over for the night and I started to fall into an exhausted slumber G started touching and...ahem..exploring...and whispered in my ear 'I think this pussy needs a hard dick in it', and there we were off again, no complaints from me.

After that night though it was a month before I saw Guillaume again, part of me wondered if it was something to do with the 'dominating', part of me wondered if he had met someone else and another part wondered if perhaps he too had felt to same small cracks I had. The next time I saw him we met for a coffee and he was like a different person. He was so distracted and really didn't seem like he wanted to be there. I felt awkward and uncomfortable and the couple who had their tongues rammed down each others throats at the table next to us didn't help. We were a ten minute walk from his flat but it was clear that sexytime was not on the cards and after an hour or so we said goodbye for the last time.

My vagina cried but in my head I knew it was for the best and so it was au revoir to my favourite Frenchman so far...

Special Mention....

Thanks to the Expatriates in Paris Facebook group for letting me post the link to my blog on their wall! For lots of fun ways to meet new people in this city check out their website. :)

http://www.expatriateparty.com/

Encounter 3 - Guillaume, Part 1

In September two significant things happened: One - C left Paris for good and two - I met the hottest guy ever who ended up being the 1st Frenchie that I really liked.

The reason I mention the 1st point is because it was after my ex left Paris that things really took a turn for the best. I moved to Paris to be with C and I had never really been in this city without him, I was expecting slight panic when he left - who would I turn to if something happened to me? But in actual fact when he left it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders...no longer would I be walking around on eggshells terrified that I would bump into him and the girl he replaced me with a couple of weeks after we split up.

And so, it was with this newfound carefree feeling that I got dressed up one Saturday night to head for some drinks with friends. Incase you havent noticed already, I like sex and have probably what is considered a much higher than average sex drive. By this point it had been FIVE months which felt more like a year. So with this itch that needed scratched that I delibretely dressed an un-Frenchlike as possible. I was only going to a bar in Oberkampf (one of my favourite areas to go out in Paris!) but I wore a short dress with no tights, high heels and lots of red lipstick. I've found that French girls dont get all that dresssed up to go out, nor do they wear much make-up.

After drinking a bottle of wine (to myself, yeah I guess I still was drinking too much) at my friends place we headed to a small bar. We were chatting away when the guy at the table beside us heard us talking English and asked me where we were from. I almost died and went to heaven, he was tall with floppy hair, gorgeous brown eyes, designer stubble, a gorgeous smile...you get the idea! When he asked if I wanted to go outside and join him for a smoke I couldn't have said yes fast enough. I don't smoke but I still took a few draws from his rollie (yuck) and tried to disguise my disgust at the taste of it (probably not very well, I've been told I have a very expresssive face). The rest of that night is pretty hazy, I remember we went back into that bar, he bought me some drinks and then I demanded that we went dancing (I get bossy when drunk). We went to the Nouveau Casino where I remember ordering shots of vodka (I just don't know when to stop sometimes - le sigh) and then after that...everything is blank.

Have you ever woken up and had NO IDEA where you are? And I don't mean when you wake up and forget for a second, I mean proper, 'Oh my God , where am I?'. I have, this one time and it was not fun. Thankfully the first thing that I noticed was that I was still fully dressed, the second was that the ineviatable hangover was absent (probably because I was still abit drunk) and as I sat up the third was that the guy lying next to me was well and truly delicious!!!!So what do you do in that poition? Well I smiled and said good morning and acted like my memory was not a total blank. Which backfired when he asked if i remembered his name :

Anglosluts Mouth :  Of course I do..it's uhhh...erm...
Anglosluts Mind : Fuuuck, what's his name...will he be offended that I can't remember? Is there a bill, anything lying around? Fuck, he's looking at me expectantly...fuuuuuck, damn you wine!
Anglosluts Mouth : Erm...ahhh, maybe you'll have to remind me. I bet you don't remember MY name!

He did. He also had by the bed a glass of water and an asprin for my expected hangover. Is it wrong to use a strangers toothbrush? Between the choice of alcohol morning breath and using a toothbrush I'll choose the latter. So after a brush of the teeth and a quick wipe under the eyes to remove smudged mascara I returned back to G's bed where things started to heat up. I was so happy that I had chosen to wear cute matching underwear! And I can tell you...the wait was SO worth it! G was just so sexy in every way and he was like a total machine. He was the 1st guy that I noticed the large box of condoms beside her bed though, and really I wasn't too sure how to take that. Careful or a he-slut? I somehow managed to convince myself that he was just careful.

That was a great day which I deemed 'Sexy Sunday', we literally stayed in bed allll day, only getting up around 8pm to go get some dinner. To me G was pefect, totally gorgeous, smart, well travelled and owned his own sucessfull buinness. I consider myself very average so it was a real case in internally high-fiving myself. After dinner we returned to his place and continued our sex-a-thon. He'd lived in his flat for 2 years and had never fucked on the balcony so I took care of that. Sex on a balcony is always fun - whens it's directly accross from a hotel window it's just downright naughty! AND unlike the fool Arnaud before him, G's command of the English language was fantastic. I didn't expect for someone I'd only just me to ask me if I 'liked his hard dick in my pussy' and could only mutter a feeble yes thanks to the surprise but as Sexy Sunday went on the chat became dirtier and sexier until I finally found myself muttering 'say it in French'. He obliged. Wow. Just wow, that's all I can really say. if you haven't had a hot Frenchman talk dirty to you in his native tongue then put it on your to-do list. Seriously, even if your married to an American guy and have 5 kids.

Sadly Sexy Sunnday came to an end (after having sex 8 times, yes I counted, yes it's a little pathetic, no I don't care) and I had the joy of going to work on Monday morning with very sore thights but a huge smile on my face. G walked me to the metro, asked for my number and promised to be in touch.

And so it was an a bientot rather than an au revoir to encounter nuber 3!

Encounter 2 - Frank

I met Frank on a night out when I was gradually getting back to normal and at the time when C was starting to no longer be the 1st thing that I thought about in the morning. I still wasn't myself, I was still drinking too much and I was hitting the rebound bigtime but I was getting there.

I met Frank through a friend of a friend at a boat party. I was drunk, he was drunk and we ended up kissing. He was your stereotypical geek, kinda tall and lanky with glasses and he worked in the Apple store. He was also 2 years younger than me..I thought he was super hot though and I still kinda think he is. After a night of dancing and snogging we eventually left the boat party at 6am and headed back to Frank's friends place where we all partied some more until exhuastion started to kick in. It must've been around 8am when we finally left his friends place to stagger back to Franks - for want of a proper bed if nothing else! Once back at his place and comfortably into bed things started to heat up. After some time though it became clear that Frank wasn't going to..ahem..rise to the occasion. I put it down to tiredness, too much alcohol and coke then rolled over and thought nothing more of it.

Later in the afternoon I finally found the energy to get myself home. Frank walked me to the metro stop, asked for my number and kissed me goodbye. Over the next couple of weeks we exchanged texts, became friends on Facebook and discussed going for drinks sometime.

One Sunday I was out with my amazing friend N who was my absolute rock at that time. I was drunk of course and was blabbing on about how I really felt I was getting better which of course made me think of C and made me all emotional. Le sigh. Once we left the bar I went home and texted Frank and invited him over to my place. I guess I wasn't really bothered about seeing him but it was a classic rebound thing to do. Of course it turned out not to be such a good idea since he accepted my invite and hopped on the nightbus...from the other end of the city!

An hour and a half he finally arrived and by this point I was pretty much asleep. As i recall I said a groggy and drunken hello and then announced that I was going to sleep. This guy was a freakin hugger though so it was easier said than done. Then out of nowhere he started talking about our last encounter, how keeping it up was a problem for him and how he was going to go to the doctors about it. In my head all I could think was 'Uhhh, why is this guy trying to talk to me about FEELINGS! Can't a girl have some good old fashioned sex without having to talk about things?!'. Of course I'm actually a pretty nice person so rather than berate him I told him that he needed more confidence and kissed him goodnight.

After that I let things fizzle out...I had enough issues of my own without worrying about someone elses too!

And so it was Au Revoir encounter number 2!

Encounter 1 - Arnaud

When I went through a messy and painful break-up with my ex (hereby referred to as 'C') I went through 3 stages before returning to normality:

1. Crying - like all the time. At work, on the metro, in the shower, in the supermarket...you get the idea - I was a wreak.
2. Replacing food with alcohol. This was a fun time (note the sarcasm). Instead of enjoying the summer sun I kept myself company with a bottle of vodka shunning invites for picnics and other fun activities from friends. The heartbreak diet was effective though :)
3. The slutty phase - This is when I started going out and would basically kiss/fool around with anyone with a penis.

I had my first encounter with a Frenchman between stages 2 and 3. Arnaud was very tall, dark (but not floppy) haired and had a pretty poor level of English. I met him in a bar/club called Truskal. My friend and I used to say that this place is a sheer sausage fest due to the number of sleazy men who use the small, crowded conditions to press their gross sweaty bodies up against unsuspecting females. The night in question however I was the sleazy one...
Fueled by the huge amounts of alcohol in my veins and the need for attention I had wandered away from my friend to do some creeping. I spotted this guy who I thought looked pretty hot. After spying on him for a few minutes to establish that he wasn't with a girl, I marched up to him , took his hand and demanded (in English) 'come dance with me'. Five minutes later we were on the small dancefloor with his tongue rammed down my throat. And I mean literally rammed down there. Kissing someone new after C was always going to feel strange but this guys long tongue was just disgusting! Despite this and the fact that up close his eyes were slightly googly like a goldfish I continued to allow him to rape my face/mouth/throat with his tongue for the rest of the evening. After the club closed we went to a 24hr cafe and drank cocktails until 7am when I decided that I had to get some sleep. At this time I was still living with C (damn you Paris and the difficult process of flat hunting) so Arnaud and I shared a sloppy kiss goodbye and exchanged mobile numbers.
Arnaud and I exchanged a few texts and then he added me on Facebook where I was able to examine his resemblance to a goldfish through sober eyes and viewed his bad dress sense. We chatted on Facebook a few times and then he went on holiday to America for three weeks. During those 3 weeks I (finally) moved into a new flat. On his return Arnaud and I discovered that we now lived rather close by. Now something makes me wonder if this was what spurned on what happened next. From going to a guy who seemed relatively normal Arnaud suddenly turned into a sex texter. Nothing wrong with that - I enjoy a bit of dirty talk probably more than the average person. However, as previously mentioned Arnaud didn't have such good English. In his texts which he probably thought were very sexy he told me that he wanted to 'eat up your pussy', 'hold you down and rape you' (I get that some guys/girls have the whole rape fantasy thing but save that for lovers you actually know!), and 'put my hard cock in your throat'. The best text of all though was when Arnaud told me that he wanted me to 'swallow my sperms'. After that I strangely enough stopped replying to Arnauds texts and deleted him from Facebook.

Au revoir encounter number 1!

Introduction

Welcome to the adventures of this Anglo-Slut. If you happen to have stumbled across this then I apologise in advance for any raciness you may encounter. If you are looking for the typical blog about someone living in Paris talking about long walks and museums and the beauty of it all then you will be disappointed. The only beauty I will refer to is that of the Frenchmen that I am surrounded by. There is a reason for this blog...my dear dear friend hereby known as NC dared to move to the other side of the world, we are both rubbish at emailing and recently she asked me to write a blog so...voila!
I won't write much about me except that I am an anglo who has been living in Paris for over 2years now. Just over a year ago I split up with my English boyfriend, so this blog will document all past and current Frenchman encounters, all for the benefit of NC!
As it is stupid o'clock in the morning here I will keep this 1st post brief but as an introduction here is some observations about the most beautiful men on Earth (the Frenchies)

• Frenchmen are the only nationality in the world that can pull off that floppy hair.
• They seen to have a rule book that they use for chatting up Anglo girls - the favourite seems to be 'you have such beautiful eyes' - bleugh!
• It is perfectly normal for them to approach a girl walking down the street and ask for her number/a date.
• They always seem to have a large stash of condoms by their bed and whip them out fast. Unlike Anglo boys they dont try to just stick it in. If its hard then it's wrapped up.
• Kissing in a club generally makes them think that sexytime is automatically on the cards.
• 'Tres jolie' appears to actually be sincere. 'So beautiful' seems to be used when they are trying to get laid.
• A Frenchman talking dirty to you is exhilirating. If you have never had the pleasure then it sucks to be you.
• Anglo girls tend to be viewed as easy - I'm not gonna lie, I'm the kind of Anglo girl that adds to that reputation.

Might be worth mentioning that I seem to have a 'type' of Frenchman that I go for. In general they have floppy hair, designer stubble and brown eyes like pools of chocolate you could swim in. Oh and I also seem to be attrated to the he-sluts!

So introduction over - I'm off to sleep. Enjoy NC - you owe me a fucking good email now! ;)