Monday, October 22, 2012
I called my friend to apologize because I left the party without saying goodbye to anyone. She said, You went for the "French Leave". I thought she was finding a generously polite way to tell me I was rude, self absorbed and (vaguely) mysterious. And I loved it! Yes, that's it exactly; I was going for the French leave: head down, hand at my collar, clickety clicking in my high heels on the cobblestone streets and puffing a cigarette. C'est moi.
Au revoir. A Bientot. C'est ca. Un peu que tu me coqauvin jeanpaulbelmondo!
When I saw my friend again yesterday, I told her how much I love the French Leave and how I was going to use it from now on, and she said that the French think it's rude to interrupt the flow of the party to announce your departure and say goodbye to everyone, and that it's much more courteous to just slip out (and say goodbye the next day).
But of course this makes sense. How many times have you been at a party and someone is in the middle of a story and some guy gets up to put on his coat and say good bye and thank-you, and everyone stops to turn their head and look, get up, shake hands etc.
Fuck you Jerome! Molly here is in the middle of a story, can't you just tiptoe out the back door like a respectable Frenchman, fuckin jackass. Get the hell out already.
(sigh) I'm really not cool enough to be French.