‘Je Cherche Un Homme’
March 24, 2002 | 12:00am
You are lucky," said Marie-Claude in her halting English. "Good professions, good friends, nice country. But why no husband? Maybe you are, comment dit-on, too picky, oui?"
Her audience shrugged guiltily in unison, for it seemed indeed that her observation appeared to be universal: they’d heard that one many times before. Even the lone male in the group, who had been saying "Je suis célibataire" (trans. "I am single"...and I am also what the French adjective sounds like) for the last two-and-a-half years, could relate.
Madame Marie-Claude’s curiosity was beyond piqued. After all, the members of the little assembly were extremely cute specimens of the human race (OK, far from hideously repulsive at the very least), fairly intelligent, successful in their respective fields, and, from all appearances, happy campers. Perhaps too happy for comfort, which was cause for the kindly French grand-mère’s concern. Then again, several liters of Châteauneuf-du-Pape would be more than enough to make the grumpiest soul turn joyful cartwheels all around the room.
"Well you see, Maman," someone slurred, "you’ve said it all yourself. Good professions, good friends, nice country. Since we’ve got it made so far, why ruin it all by getting into a substandard relationship? And it’s not so bad to be picky, n’est-ce pas?" Or at least that’s what she tried to say, except that the words came out in a drunken salmagundi of Waray-Tagalog-Ilonggo, leaving the Normandy native more bewildered than ever.
But an inebriated soul is the wisest sage (with apologies to the old Latin adage). One of those forwarded e-mails points out that most failed relationships were in trouble the day they began, simply because the two people involved chose the wrong person. Wow, what a remarkably revolutionary resolution. But at least the author, Neil Clark Warren, Ph.D., is quick to admit that while his observation "may sound like a no-brainer, you’d be surprised at the large percentage of people who are so intent on getting to ‘I do’ that they don’t invest the necessary time and effort to make a good decision."
Convincing enough, as many of us may have learned from vicarious experience or from watching those showbiz talk shows. But Marie-Claude’s first three observations, casual as they might seem, have a lot more to do with picking a potential life partner and maintaining a good relationship than meets the eye.
Professional status is a primordial consideration, especially for women. You’ve spent the best years of life building a solid career, meticulously following your 10-year plan, and then, when you’ve finally accomplished everything you set out to do and are ready to rest on your laurels and start looking for someone to share it all with, you’re either a) too old; b) suffering from serious mental problems attributable to stress; c) too intimidating; or d) all of the above. Most of your peers are married or gay (or both), and the only eligible ones are notorious habitues of those upscale girlie bars cum karaoke joints, dirty old manyaks or perennial geeks. Other men, successful in their own right but less stout-hearted, will take one look at your business card/CV/bank account and rush towards the nearest exit. It seems like the only place you can meet single men of satisfactory intellectual capacity and without any professional hang-ups is on the Net...only to find out that they’re schizophrenic 16-year-old nerds with IQs off the scale (which might not be so bad if it weren’t illegal...you might just have the next Bill Gates on your hands). No wonder so many successful women chuck it all away when they get married: the Herculean effort of trying to find the perfect professional/personal match is enough to sap your energy for life.
Friends also play a key role in any romantic relationship, especially when you’re in it for the long haul. In all likelihood, the length of your relationship with your buddies has surpassed even your most-drawn out romance, so any new prospect had better fit in. And if he or she doesn’t, you can either say goodbye to your friends, or prepare to be abandoned by your lover...at least that would be another excuse to drown your sorrows with the old, faithful posse. Speaking of whom: your perfect relationship equals the sum total of the best character traits of your closest friends of the opposite sex. Too bad no one person has X’s gregarious personality, Y’s sense of humor, or Z’s ability to carry on a conversation about anything and everything. Oh shove it all, too bad none of your friends looks like Hugh Jackman, period.
Nice country, oui, the best there is, despite all its ailments. If you and your potential partner have diametrically opposed views about this simple matter, then save yourself the headache and resulting heartache of being forced to conform to his/her political beliefs (which, by the way, is a ground for legal separation under our laws) and vice versa. If he’s itching to get out of the country and swear allegiance to some newly independent Soviet republic while you can’t imagine living anywhere outside Barangay Culiat, then this may not be the right match for you. Similarly, if her idea of an afternoon of fun is pounding the pavement protesting the political repercussions of the declaration of war against ukay-ukay and you’re as apathetic as they come, then nix the idea of a harmonious long term alliance. And if you were both at EDSA, but you were at I and II and he only caught version 3.0...well, you get the idea. Dharma and Greg may be cute right now, but they’re the most likely candidates to commit mutual parricide in the near future.
Undeterred by the foregoing arguments, and anxiously anticipating the day she would witness at least one wedding, Madame resorted to a quick lesson in the language of love. "You say, ‘Je cherche un homme,’ (I seek a man)," she instructed, and, to our male célibataire friend, "And you! Stop saying ‘Touchez ma banane,’ and say ‘Je cherche une femme’ instead."
But before she could go on to teach her young(ish) friends how to say "I seek many handsome men," or "Where is the bathroom, please? I am going to throw up," another intoxicated individual snapped out of her drunken reverie and said, "But Maman...I don’t seek just a man, or many men. I only want the right one."
"Ah, cherie," she smiled, casting a fond look towards Dede, her husband of many years and father of her three grown children, "you must zen say ‘Je cherche Le Homme.’ I theenk zer is ‘ope for you yet.’’’
The Court of Last Retort welcomes input from our readers in the form of jokes, anecdotes, or anything intimately or even remotely related to the legal profession. Though we pander to the passions and fashions of fellow lawyers, we have also been taken to task to probe the thoughts and haunts of your loveable but often misunderstood yuppies  the 25 to 35 generational flock  so we’d like to hear your take on things. No requests for legal advice or notarial services, please. Kindly e-mail your comments, suggestions, felicitations, criticisms, marriage proposals, libel complaints and other violent reactions through argee@justice.com.and/or honey@oliveros.com.ph.
Her audience shrugged guiltily in unison, for it seemed indeed that her observation appeared to be universal: they’d heard that one many times before. Even the lone male in the group, who had been saying "Je suis célibataire" (trans. "I am single"...and I am also what the French adjective sounds like) for the last two-and-a-half years, could relate.
Madame Marie-Claude’s curiosity was beyond piqued. After all, the members of the little assembly were extremely cute specimens of the human race (OK, far from hideously repulsive at the very least), fairly intelligent, successful in their respective fields, and, from all appearances, happy campers. Perhaps too happy for comfort, which was cause for the kindly French grand-mère’s concern. Then again, several liters of Châteauneuf-du-Pape would be more than enough to make the grumpiest soul turn joyful cartwheels all around the room.
"Well you see, Maman," someone slurred, "you’ve said it all yourself. Good professions, good friends, nice country. Since we’ve got it made so far, why ruin it all by getting into a substandard relationship? And it’s not so bad to be picky, n’est-ce pas?" Or at least that’s what she tried to say, except that the words came out in a drunken salmagundi of Waray-Tagalog-Ilonggo, leaving the Normandy native more bewildered than ever.
But an inebriated soul is the wisest sage (with apologies to the old Latin adage). One of those forwarded e-mails points out that most failed relationships were in trouble the day they began, simply because the two people involved chose the wrong person. Wow, what a remarkably revolutionary resolution. But at least the author, Neil Clark Warren, Ph.D., is quick to admit that while his observation "may sound like a no-brainer, you’d be surprised at the large percentage of people who are so intent on getting to ‘I do’ that they don’t invest the necessary time and effort to make a good decision."
Convincing enough, as many of us may have learned from vicarious experience or from watching those showbiz talk shows. But Marie-Claude’s first three observations, casual as they might seem, have a lot more to do with picking a potential life partner and maintaining a good relationship than meets the eye.
Professional status is a primordial consideration, especially for women. You’ve spent the best years of life building a solid career, meticulously following your 10-year plan, and then, when you’ve finally accomplished everything you set out to do and are ready to rest on your laurels and start looking for someone to share it all with, you’re either a) too old; b) suffering from serious mental problems attributable to stress; c) too intimidating; or d) all of the above. Most of your peers are married or gay (or both), and the only eligible ones are notorious habitues of those upscale girlie bars cum karaoke joints, dirty old manyaks or perennial geeks. Other men, successful in their own right but less stout-hearted, will take one look at your business card/CV/bank account and rush towards the nearest exit. It seems like the only place you can meet single men of satisfactory intellectual capacity and without any professional hang-ups is on the Net...only to find out that they’re schizophrenic 16-year-old nerds with IQs off the scale (which might not be so bad if it weren’t illegal...you might just have the next Bill Gates on your hands). No wonder so many successful women chuck it all away when they get married: the Herculean effort of trying to find the perfect professional/personal match is enough to sap your energy for life.
Friends also play a key role in any romantic relationship, especially when you’re in it for the long haul. In all likelihood, the length of your relationship with your buddies has surpassed even your most-drawn out romance, so any new prospect had better fit in. And if he or she doesn’t, you can either say goodbye to your friends, or prepare to be abandoned by your lover...at least that would be another excuse to drown your sorrows with the old, faithful posse. Speaking of whom: your perfect relationship equals the sum total of the best character traits of your closest friends of the opposite sex. Too bad no one person has X’s gregarious personality, Y’s sense of humor, or Z’s ability to carry on a conversation about anything and everything. Oh shove it all, too bad none of your friends looks like Hugh Jackman, period.
Nice country, oui, the best there is, despite all its ailments. If you and your potential partner have diametrically opposed views about this simple matter, then save yourself the headache and resulting heartache of being forced to conform to his/her political beliefs (which, by the way, is a ground for legal separation under our laws) and vice versa. If he’s itching to get out of the country and swear allegiance to some newly independent Soviet republic while you can’t imagine living anywhere outside Barangay Culiat, then this may not be the right match for you. Similarly, if her idea of an afternoon of fun is pounding the pavement protesting the political repercussions of the declaration of war against ukay-ukay and you’re as apathetic as they come, then nix the idea of a harmonious long term alliance. And if you were both at EDSA, but you were at I and II and he only caught version 3.0...well, you get the idea. Dharma and Greg may be cute right now, but they’re the most likely candidates to commit mutual parricide in the near future.
Undeterred by the foregoing arguments, and anxiously anticipating the day she would witness at least one wedding, Madame resorted to a quick lesson in the language of love. "You say, ‘Je cherche un homme,’ (I seek a man)," she instructed, and, to our male célibataire friend, "And you! Stop saying ‘Touchez ma banane,’ and say ‘Je cherche une femme’ instead."
But before she could go on to teach her young(ish) friends how to say "I seek many handsome men," or "Where is the bathroom, please? I am going to throw up," another intoxicated individual snapped out of her drunken reverie and said, "But Maman...I don’t seek just a man, or many men. I only want the right one."
"Ah, cherie," she smiled, casting a fond look towards Dede, her husband of many years and father of her three grown children, "you must zen say ‘Je cherche Le Homme.’ I theenk zer is ‘ope for you yet.’’’
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