Walking home through the semi-deserted streets of Montmartre, past the tourist trap of Sacré Coeur, I was aggressed by a drunk man. He left his posse of equally inebriated midnight creepers, came up very close to me and said repeatedly: “Comme tu es belle, comme tu es belle.” I refused to make eye contact or utter a word to him, as I knew that he second he notice I had an accent, he would pin me as an American girl and the situation would inevitably deteriorate from there. American girls in Paris may seem to be glamorous princesses in flight from their own country, but in most cases, they are prime prey for Wankers of the Week who reek of body odor and bad whisky.

After I walked efficiently down the cobblestone street away from the creeper, his dialogue turned from “You are so beautiful” to “Comme tu es moche, comme tu es moche.” Translation: “You are so ugly.” I guess he wanted to test out a variety of pick-up lines that night.

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