Comment est-ce qu'on dit "sorta seeing each other"?

So J-D has turned out to be very nice indeed. Let's introduce him a little better.

J-D is one of those people who could have easily been a linguist. I've already said I don't understand why his English is so good, except that he's obviously talented and has a great memory for vocabulary. The handful of mistakes he consistently makes are mostly in aspect, a notoriously hard nut to crack ("she was speaking" for "she used to speak," "I'm here since 2004" for "I've been here since 2004," etc.). Other than that, he wants to work on his intonation and prosody, only the other two hardest things to learn in another language! He does a hysterical impression of a bad French accent, and excellent impressions in general, though his impression of Chirac was totally wasted on me.

I teach him English words like goofball and snuggle. He's taught me a lot of French, e.g., "sans déc" ("no s***") and arriver as a verb of ability; he generally lets me know what subjunctive form I'm looking for, and where to put the adverbs. Moreover, he offers me just the right mix of prodding to actually speak French, and encouragement once I do. For example, he got me to tell him the whole reindeer poop story in French. ("Reindeer poop" becomes "caca de rêne". What, you don't know the reindeer poop story? Someone please tell it in the comments below!)

He paints and writes and reads and under duress will admit to playing guitar; he has a CD collection to rival my brother's or my father's, and, like them, consumes music like it's air. Has a lot of female friends and no guy friends, except for this gay couple in the 3rd whose charming café he frequents (we went there last night). Not a cook particularly. Won't eat cheese hardly at all. (Don't they take away your French passport for that?) Nor does he smoke, thank goodness.

He has the kind of job that makes me want to get him to listen to Fountains of Wayne ("a desk full of papers that mean nothing at all"). He lives out in zone 3 on RER A and works in the 13th. He's originally from a small town I can't pronounce but went to college in Paris. Turned 29 yesterday, is oldest of four children, very close with one of his brothers, who lives in Paris and whom I haven't yet met. Sorry, jcf, I didn't ask him his mother's maiden name. ;)

He's impressed with my nerding and every single one of my serial hobbies, and thinks I'm belle. I'm impressed that he can play chess in his head (and equally impressed that he doesn't :), and I think he's a cutie. He seems to know about living one day at a time and being kind to himself and others. He thinks his niece is the most beautiful little girl in the world, though he concedes that that description will have to be qualified once her new little sister comes along. He talks a lot about people. He likes to take care of me and likes it when I take care of him. Oh, and he's very convincing when he tells me that in France, it's okay to kiss in public. :)

What fun! I'm aware, though, that I don't want to start neglecting my friends here just because I've got a nice boy to hang out with... I rather like what A the other day called my "girl-on-the-town lifestyle" here. Still, if you're out in Paris and see a girl on the town with a silly grin on her face, that just might be me.