Free French Toast by Harriet Welty Rochefort Page A

women (just look at how many American women in Paris are married to Frenchmen). A divorced Australian woman who works in a large multinational company and dates both Frenchmen and Americans told me thatshe finds it a relief to be able to joke around rather explicitly with her French male colleague because “he just laughs and doesn’t think of our conversation as a come-on, which the Americans do.” She, like other observers, says she likes the “dose of femininity” in French males.
    Badinter says that Frenchmen don’t need this tough-guy aspect because they have better relationships with their mothers. Her explanation is that the French mother hasn’t smothered her son the way the American or German mother has, nor has she abandoned him the way the English mother does by sending him away to boarding school. “Less prisoners of their mothers, our sons hate women less,” she writes. Interesting theory.
    Even the feminist movement in France, says Badinter, was not characterized by the rupture with men that has been seen in the States. “I am not saying that France has escaped a patriarchy or the oppression of women, but I observe a difference in the nature of it . . . there is less hate between the sexes here than elsewhere.”
    I agree on the last point, but I
love
the part about the French mothers. A lot of American women married to Frenchmen might contest the point about Frenchmen being “less prisoners” of their moms. Actually, some Frenchmen would like their wives to
be
their moms, or at least do things as well as she did.
    My French husband would like me to PACK HIS BAG when we go on trips. Since he doesn’t pack mybag, I don’t see why I should pack his. This is American equality, right? The last time this happened, we were on our way to the Norman coastal town of Etretat for a late-fall weekend. “You did bring my toothbrush and razor, didn’t you?” he asked, glancing over my way casually. Actually, for once in my life, I
had
ventured to pack his bag, congratulating myself all the while on my open-mindedness, my
largesse d’esprit
. But of course I had forgotten the razor, toothbrush, and just about everything else that was essential.
    After twenty years in France, I can’t get excited anymore about the issue of bag packing. I figure that (a) he doesn’t have all that much time, (b) he is absolutely not interested in what he wears, and (c) he’s bound to look better if I do it. Maybe I have become French after all. I’m in good company at least. Bernadette Chirac, wife of the French president, recently told reporters that she
always
packs Jacques’s valise. He wouldn’t think of going on any trip, official or otherwise, without her preparing his suitcase.
    Could you be thinking at this point that Frenchmen are also looking for a mother when they wed? Well . . .
    It’s interesting to consider what the Frenchman looks for in a woman. Basically, he wants a sexy supermom. In one poll, Frenchmen said they preferred women in silk underwear to women in cotton underwear (no surprise there); a shy demeanor, as opposed to a bold one; a chic suit rather than shorts; and an accomplishedhousewife rather than a social butterfly or perfect hostess. Sixty-nine percent said they preferred an intelligent woman; 72 percent said a housewife; and 68 percent chose a good cook. In other words, they want it all: a perfectly groomed, intelligent, unassuming creature who manages to run a perfect home and cook terrific food.
    Now, about the “shy demeanor” bit. In the United States, women are encouraged to speak up. Not so in France. Even if the men aren’t talking just to one another, it is clear that the women are consciously or unconsciously taking second place, harmonizing with the men but not daring to go out on a limb or take the lead. I mention this because as a forthright lively American female, I have to make a mammoth