Finding love abroad

"Is he gay, or is he just French?" -- a question posed frequently by us American girls studying in Paris. Is it his impeccable grooming, those closely tailored pants, or just the jaunty spring in his step that throws us off?

Maybe it is the fact that in France, it is socially acceptable and not uncommon for men to kiss each other -- once on either cheek, that is. Whatever it is, it has got a few of us girls a little confused.

Learning the relationship between the sexes can be no small challenge in a foreign country and France is certainly no exception. The French are generally very attuned to these relations -- the couples kissing in the parks are not always 15-year-olds, for example.

For visiting men and women, however, it seems best to tread lightly until the rules of the game become clear.

Women should know that France is a Latin country -- not exactly as macho some of its southern neighbours, but still a place where men practice something known as la drague (the noun form of "hitting on someone").

Most of the time, la drague is fairly harmless and occasionally, it is even charming. "J'?©tais charm?© par ton visage," began a Frenchman before inviting a friend of mine to have a coffee. Nice to hear, at least.

But since la drague is not always so gentle, French women have developed some airtight defenses to cut off unwanted approaches -- flatly ignoring their curbside admirers and, when necessary, deploying the Icy Stare. I have seen some truly withering looks coming from otherwise attractive French women.

Visiting men should therefore be forewarned that the Icy Stare is nothing personal. "Why is it that every time I try to pass a girl in a bar she stares me down into nothing?" asked one male friend. While it is possible that his appeal did not make the transatlantic journey intact, he most likely experienced an aspect of the Franco-American cultural gap that has stumped generations.

And yet, dating -- if not finding true love -- is possible if both sexes are willing to meet somewhere in the middle. For those on the prowl, I suggest seeking out stressful situations created by the French government.

France is a country of interminable lines -- the bureaucracy here puts the folks at the DMV to shame. And while it is generally not considered pleasant to spend an entire afternoon at the prefecture, one does have the opportunity to chat with the legions of people who are all mildly annoyed for the same reason.

Conversations are easy to start: "Is this really the line?" is a reliable favorite (and, yes, it really is the line).

Or, "How long do you think her lunch break is?" in reference to the woman behind the counter, the sole person who has the power to do whatever it is you need done. Both you and your interlocutor express a wish that she only takes one hour for lunch (alas, wishful thinking).

At the end of a long day at the prefecture, therefore, it is not uncommon to leave with a few new numbers programmed into your cell phone. Having a common enemy turns strangers into friends fairly quickly.

And the good news for one's social calendar is lines exist everywhere in France. A fair amount of one's waking hours are spent queuing to buy bread, sign up for classes, or use a bathroom (though not all of these situations encourage romantic beginnings).

Waiting for a metro can also be fertile ground, but potential draguers are warned to tread lightly. The metro is a little too louche, a little too sketchy -- something about being underground and surrounded by strange smells that is not exactly sexy.

Making eye contact on the metro is therefore not advised. While looking around on the T is a rather harmless activity, looking around on the metro can be taken as an invitation. The French therefore make ample use of the Middle-Distance Stare (kissin' cousin of the Icy Stare).

Sometimes it seems hard to believe that a train full of people looking everywhere but at each other can find love. But then these same people emerge into the street where the old familiar rules apply and the irresistible static between the sexes is again in evidence: vive la drague.