Step it up, Americans

It's time to admit it: I have a serious weakness for foreign men. I have hemmed and hawed when people accused me of it in the past, scoffed when my college friend J joked about the "United Nations of Heathen," said it was just a coincidence that my two serious boyfriends were both European, and claimed to like American men just as much as the next girl. But I just don't.

And you know why? It's because American men are subpar, or at least the ones who are asking me out are. My French ex, La Moustache, was no prize winner, either; I'm the first to admit that. But American men are awkward and unchivalrous when it comes to wooing women, and they need to learn a lesson or two from the foreigners.

Last week,when I had nearly given up all hope on OKCupid, I had my worst experience to date: I asked a guy out who I had been corresponding with for a couple of weeks, and he responded, “You seem really great, but I'm only interested in dating scientists and engineers.” Um, excuse me? Why have you been wasting my time, in that case? And, can you imagine if I informed non-white suitors that I'm only interested in dating people of my own race? Or what if I refused to date anyone who's not a teacher? What a horrible world we would live in if people only ever spent time with people exactly like them. Thanks for sparing me the pain of a boring date with you and your small mind.

But the very next day, maybe because I had hit OKCupid rock bottom, or maybe because I had just shelled out $75 on a Match subscription, I got a short email, half in French and half in English, from a mysterious, handsome stranger. Mysterious because his profile was virtually empty. Still, I wrote back, feeling guilty because he's French and my Wise Woman forbade me to go out with European men.

Imagine my relief when I received his reply and realized that he is in fact French Canadian. Not only is it not forbidden for me to go out with him, but it is also a chance to rectify one of the great regrets of my life: that I never dated a Quebecois man despite having lived in the province of Quebec for four years.

Anyway, the point of all this is that in his three messages to me he has been flirtatious and sweet in a way that no one else in my 8 months on dating websites has been. I offered to come to his neighborhood for our date tomorrow; he said he'd be happy to come to mine, and made it sound like it would be a fun adventure for him. (You have no idea how many men cluelessly suggest a date in their neighborhood bar without thinking about my hour-long commute to get there. Or maybe they do think about it but just don't care.) Instead of saying, “Wanna grab a beer sometime?” he told me that he'd love to have the opportunity to meet me. He complimented me on my fascinating profile.

It's not that my French Canadian suitor's messages are so amazing. It's just that all the others I get are so very not amazing. Maybe American men should have a new required college seminar on the art of wooing. I usually go into first dates with low expectations and a feeling of dread in my belly, and it's nice to be excited for once. And it really didn't take that much to make me feel excited.

In other news, the universe has been throwing me a lot of random opportunities with Babe in the Woods, my young, impoverished, handsome, soon-to-be-former co-worker, and I've been passing up on them. For instance, I drove by him the other day on the street. It was raining. He was huddled miserably in his raincoat. I had no place in particular I needed to be. It was the perfect moment to offer him a lift, but instead I kept right on driving. Then yesterday, I ran into a co-worker of Babe's who I am friendly with. “I was just getting drinks with all the people I work with,” she told me. “They're all still there, across the street in that bar. I'm the only one who left.” I could have stopped by, but I didn't. Why? Babe was fun to flirt with. He was fun to write about in my blog. And I think I'd just like to keep him as a cute, flirtatious memory.

Now, if he were from Mexico or Poland it would probably be a different story...