French Lesson

Last week one of my BF's hit the wall, got a major bee in her bonnet, and declared that we needed to go out to meet some boys/guys/men.  And possibly make out with them.  You don't have to ask me twice, so before we knew it, we were out at a local meet market, margaritas in hand.  The pickings were rather slim, until four dashing gents arrived, clad in very well-cut jackets and fancy chapeaus.  Was it a band, direct from a photo shoot?  No, this is San Francisco, not Los Angeles- they were French!  From Paris and everything!  Kicking off their American style road trip that would take them to Vegas and L.A., and points in between.  Adorable, with perfect English and sexy accents, we took them to dive bar and showed them the charming American custom of the "depth charge".  We had each been talking to one for a while, but when we went to the bathroom we negotiated a trade.  It turns out hers was gorgeous but a bit of a dud, and we figured that since I already had a crush (HD), she could have first pick and switch to the guy I was talking to.  After 3 margaritas and a boilermaker, this seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea.  But here is what we learned: you cannot do that.  And everyone I have mentioned this to has immediately said "I don't think you can just switch like that".  (Yes, you are correct.  And where were you that night?)  They didn't fall for it.  We ended up having an after party that was festive until 4:30 am, complete with giant vodka sodas, party pics, a lost hat, and forcing Parisians into cabs against their will.  But after we introduced our French farce of "who likes who?", neither one of us ended up with a proper makeout.  Quelle horreur!  But all in all a very fun night,  and a good lesson for future soirees.