The Clé to My Heart

It's difficult when your significant other does not share the same passions in life as you do. Not only does my fiancé not speak French, but he used to be one of those kids in high school who were the bane of my existence: he was a high-school French class cut-up.

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I'd end up with someone like him. People like him annoyed and teased the hell out of me back when I was 15. I guess the fact that I met him out of this context (in the college dorm rather than the high school hallway) explains how I was able to stand him long enough to find myself ready to meet him at the end of the aisle several years later.

The fact that my fiancé does not share my francophilic enthusiasm does not dampen my spirits that much; French has always been a solo passion for me. My entire family speaks either Italian or Spanish as a second language and my decision to study French was done partially because of some innate interest in the culture and partially because it seemed rebellious and forbidden. After all, my Italian grandmother did tell me it was "a sin not to study Italian!". So, sin I did. And I liked it; I loved it. I still do. It just meant a lot more solo outings to movies, operas, gallery openings and even solo travel. I have to say that solo travel is sometimes more interesting than travel in pairs or in groups. (I will save some of my anecdotes on this subject for future posts.)

Every now and then, my fiancé will ask me who I love more, him or the French. He asks it playfully, knowing he won't get a straight answer out of me. I can't choose between the two--the pros and cons even each other out. I guess I could say I love him more, safe in the knowledge that nothing, except maybe mental disease, can take my French away from me. It's sort of like family in that sense-it'll always be there at the end of everything. Let's face it: if I were in the classic "lifeboat" situation, I wouldn't have to make a choice between my fiancé or my French. I could save them both!