A Humorous Proposition

There is this kid in my stake named Tom.  He is kind of loud and crazy.  He just moved to Paris from the south, and I met him about a month ago at the Eiffel Tower with a big group of church friends.  We pretend to beat up on each other at FHE.  We split desserts at a restaurant one time, and as he was pushing half a brownie onto my plate, everyone started whistling at us like we were suddenly an item.  He's a funny guy.  Sometimes abrasive, but funny.
Tonight, about of million of us made an exodus after FHE to the McDonald's across the street (the French shorten it to "McDoh").  We were all milling around and chatting after eating when Tom came up to me.  This is about what he said:

"American girls really like French guys, right?  What is the dream of the American girl?"
I thought I knew what he was getting at, so I played along:  "Falling in love with a French boy."
"Yes, and why?"
"Because they are supposed to be romantic (but I don't know about that)," I muttered, "and they have that accent."
"Right," he said, "French men are romantic.  Because of the words we say and because of," and here he brandished his jazz hands, "our fingers.  When we touch a girl, that girl has never felt something like that before."
Lots of incredulous snorting and silly giggling from me and the other girls.
"An American girl," he declared, "who has had a massage from a French guy will go home to her friends and say that it was the best massage she has ever had.  She will never forget it.  It was wonderful.  So, if you ever want a massage from a French guy, you just come to me, and I will happy to give you one."

What a sales pitch!  I hooted with laughter (along with the ten other people around us), but as I thought about it I became gravely serious for a moment and turned back to look him in the eye.  "I may actually take you up on that," I said.  And he smiled.