Romantic in French

“The French language is soooo romantic,” say my American friends.
“You know,” I tell them, “the French argue, curse, disagree and fight in French too.”
Besides, the French have a very personal interpretation of what being romantic is.
Yesterday, my husband and I had lunch in one of those small cafés/ restaurants/bistros so hard to mimic in the US.
For less than 20 Euros, you can get the menu du jour, which includes an aperitif, an entrée or appetizer in English, a main dish, cheese or dessert, a small pitcher of wine, a bottle of water, and usually professional and friendly service.
In addition, yesterday, we got the patron’s (the owner) unforgettable last words, “Bonne sieste, messieurs dames!”
Word for word translation: “Enjoy the siesta, sir and madam!”
The small smile, which doesn’t discover the teeth, and the wink, so small that I almost missed it, opened the door to a significantly different translation that, my dear American friends, is a very French version of being romantic.
Back when I was a French woman, I would have found something clever to say to show the patron that I was comfortable with his double entendre.
Instead I didn’t find any words and I felt myself blushing. My husband hooked his arm around mine.
“Welcome back to France,” he whispered.

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