It's the Deefunk Era

Ma très chère Jean,

I’d like very much to marry you, Jean. I’m a French-American girl. I can help you with your English, which is not to say that I don’t find your broken English charming because I most certainly do, but perhaps you would like to become fluent and I do so respect your ambitions and only want to help, and in turn you can help me with my French (and by “help” I mean just whisper it to me while we cuddle) and we can make babies and I will make you crêpes on command, which I coincidentally learned from my mémère so trust me they are amazing and will certainly provide you with comfort whenever you’re feeling homesick… of course this is if we chose to settle down in the U.S. but to be honest I do not care where we end up. I’d gladly move to France if that is what you so desired. Have I mentioned that I know how to tap dance? Having seen your tap dancing skills I can say with some confidence that odds are you crave a partner who can effortlessly transition from a shuffle ball change to a pullback cramp roll? Let me be that partner for you, Jean. And just think of all the love we could bestow on our children, Sabine and Étienne  (I took the liberty of naming them already but am of course open to your suggestions ma chère, don’t worry). Oh Jean, mon cœur en sucre, just imagine it. Our life together could really be something. You don’t have to answer me right away. Just think about it. I’ll be here.

With unending affection and bons baisers,
Danielle