Homoerotica on the Mainland

Doesn’t matter how many experience I have, people I meet or places I go - I still feel the quivering chills of culture shock on a daily. 

In a trip to collect the keys to the apartment I rented for my brother's stay, we encountered a naughty door that would not open. Yes, I got him his own place. Is that silly? Maybe but who wants to sleep in the same bed with their grown bro for more than a night or two? I’m newly single-habitating and still reaching out all night for a cuddle. Can’t take a chance.  In come the locksmith with a backpack full of x-rays. X-rays! Like of a brain. I thought, he must have just come from the doc’s. No sir! Maybe in America. In dear sweet France, that means he was going to use 5 of them to try and finagle the door open. 

Which reminded me of a great article my gal pal sent me a few weeks back. “The Land of Milk and Honey.” A couple living in France from America. Their stove breaks and the repair man takes a look at it and says “It needs Milk!” "What”says the puzzled man. “Oui! Oui! Milk.” As he storms of. He goes to the doc for his allergies and he says “You need honey.” Again, “What” says the puzzled man. “Local Honey.” Turns out there is a salve for the stove for the electrical conductors that you can get at the hardware store and local bee honey will alleviate allergies. Which is great! But at home, the repairman would get and apply the “milk” and the doc would prescribe us a full panel allergy test and a Claritin for the ride home.  To cover his/her ass of course from the certain lawsuit if the honey didn’t cut the rash. 

Later off to N’importe quoi, a bar in the 1^st for a birthday celebration. It’s common here to rent out a bar or a private part of a bar for your birthday bash. And it’s free! I love that. We don’t get that at home without months of prep and a hefty down payment. I quickly learned why the bar was called It doesn’t matter (translation). The bartenders cross-dress. At first I felt tricked. I’d promised less gay bars but they are not gay! And this is a straight bar. There is no escaping it. In America you don’t pretend to be gay unless you are or maybe will be in the next few weeks, or you lost a wicked expensive bet. Not here. It’s cute to pretend, it’s fine to act out and when you get drunk you may come closer to the line than we dare. Don't get me wrong, there are the college years when it's not uncommon to hear of someone getting ubber drunk and fondling a nip or making out with a gal but it's not usually after the age of 21. Not common at all amongst the male population. There are the slutty club gal exceptions but they probably didn't get enough attention in their youth or just got their implants and need someone to look their way.

Apparently, it’s even more common in the Business school crowds. I’m guessing the repression makes them more susceptible to oopsies. This place happened to be a business school crowd hangout. Just a few weeks before, a friend of mine witnessed an intoxicated man strip naked, lay on the ground while his buddies jumped on top of him. Yup! Just a regular Saturday. Had this happened at the local watering hole across the pond, the guy would have to drop out of school and enter the witness protection program for such debauchery and public erotica. He’d also likely pay  a hefty price for his ticket for indecent exposure. 

Are we too stuffy or are they too free?  Too much of anything implies it’s in excess of appropriate but since everyone is okay, I guess it’s just right for the latitude and longitude. I say, go on with your bad self!

DISCLAIMER: I hope this goes without saying but not every Parisian partakes  in the homoerotic festivities just much more than at home.