The hardest part about being in a relationship with someone from another country is the cultural divide.
At the beginning of my relationship with Benjamin, I often asked myself, “Is he being a jerk, or is he just being French?”
We met in Paris when I was there for three months. The first summer he came to visit me in LA, I naturally had the A/C blasting.
“Ca me rendre malade,” he said, which means, “It’s making me sick.”
“What, no, that’s not possible,” I said confidently. “Air conditioning doesn’t make you ill; viruses do.” But he maintained he would catch a cold from the A/C.
When I actually moved to Paris, the question came up again. Our apartment had no A/C, and I wanted to order a portable unit. He railed against it. He said it was only hot a few days a year, and the noise would keep him up. What about the environment? Oh, and that thing about it making him ill, he reminded me as he cracked open a window to smoke a cigarette. The irony.
The disagreement is just one example of our cultures clashing.
We come from very different cultures
I soon realized that few private homes in France have an A/C unit. Many French people believe that air conditioning can make you sick. It’s like an old wives’ tale.
Plus, the French are statistically more likely to smoke than Americans. In the US, 24.3% of men and women smoke, according to the WHO, compared to 34.6% in France.
If Benjamin pulls out a cigarette while we’re walking down the street, I always remind him to slow down. I don’t want the smoke hitting me in the face.
“Oh la la,” he often says and rolls his eyes. But he does as I ask nonetheless.
“Oh la la,” I mimic him with a smile. We laugh and keep going.
I see how much we judge people who smoke in the US; some of us make ourselves out to be better than smokers. We think they’re ignorant, unhealthy, and rude. The French do the same with air conditioning; many think Americans are pampered and excessive for wanting to be cool at home.
Beyond cooling and smoking, Frenchmen I met love to say, “C’est pas possible,” meaning, “it’s not possible.” I come from the land of dream big and figure it out later. My husband, on the other hand, tends to be more pessimistic. Most of the time, I just keep my faith in silence and try not to gloat when I make impossible things possible.
Plus, the French style of cosmetics is decidedly “au naturel.” At first, that was hard, but now, when Benjamin says I look better with less makeup, it feels good.
Also, Benjamin or other French people have told me more than once that I am talking too loudly. I’ll tone down my banter, but my laugh is non-negotiable.
We try to talk through our differences
Every couple will have conflict. What matters is how we deal with that conflict. My husband and I talk about these things in a way that makes our boundaries clear, but that doesn’t shame the other person.
The most important thing for me has been not to turn those differences into a reason to think my partner doesn’t care about me. I sometimes catch myself thinking: If he loved me, he would do things my way. But in reality, we are just different people with different backgrounds.
I love Benjamin, so while I hope he’ll quit smoking someday, I accept him and his country as they are for now.
Now that global warming has brought the heat of Texas to Paris, I have finally bought an A/C unit. When I came home late the other night, Benjamin had turned it on to cool our bedroom after a hot day.
“Just no turning it back on after we go to sleep, OK?” he said.
“Deal,” I told him.
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