And that’s exactly where things get slippery. Because once you start digging, you realize the "5 to 7" isn’t some codified rule. It’s a cultural echo—a half-remembered line from a 1960s Françoise Sagan novel that somehow became shorthand for French sexual freedom. But does anyone actually do it? Is it romantic? Tacky? A thing of the past? Let’s untangle it.
What Does "5 to 7" Actually Mean in French Culture?
The term “entre cinq et sept” translates literally to "between five and seven." Historically, it referred to the hours before dinner when married women (often bourgeois) would receive visitors at home. Men would call by—sometimes husbands, sometimes not. The timing was convenient: children were in bed or with governesses, husbands still at work, and social decorum still loosely intact. It was a window. A sliver of daylight for something unofficial.
Over time, the phrase morphed. By the mid-20th century, it had become a euphemism for extramarital rendezvous. Think dim lighting, heavy perfume, and a silk scarf tossed over a lamp. But here’s the twist: the original concept wasn’t necessarily sexual. The 19th-century poet Alfred de Musset used the expression in a letter in 1835 to describe a visit—not a tryst. The erotic charge came later, layered on by novels, films, and foreign journalists looking for a juicy angle on French “mores.”
And yet, the myth stuck. Because, let’s be honest, the idea of a country where affairs are not just tolerated but scheduled is tantalizing. It suggests a society that separates love, sex, duty, and passion like ingredients in a well-balanced sauce. Which, in theory, sounds elegant. In practice? We’re far from it.
From Social Call to Secret Rendezvous: The Phrase’s Evolution
By the 1950s and 60s, French cinema and literature leaned hard into the affair aesthetic. Directors like Louis Malle and François Truffaut featured characters slipping away for illicit hours. Characters would glance at the clock—“I have to go by seven”—and you knew what that meant. These weren’t dramatic elopements. They were calm, almost bureaucratic. A coffee, a cigarette, a quick embrace. Over by dinnertime.
It wasn’t just fiction. A 1967 survey by sociologist Henri Lefebvre noted that 38% of Parisian professionals admitted to having had at least one affair lasting longer than three months. Was it all between 5 and 7? Probably not. But the timing made sense logistically. Schools ended around 4:30. Offices emptied by 6:00. And dinner? Typically served between 8:00 and 9:00. That leaves a two-hour gap—golden hours for discretion.
Why the Timing Made Social Sense
Consider the domestic rhythm of mid-century France. The husband worked late. The wife managed the household. The children were in school or with relatives. There was no TikTok, no texts to track you. A phone call, a note, a nod across a café—that was enough. Meeting between 5 and 7 avoided the awkwardness of late nights (which raised suspicions) and early afternoons (too obvious). It was the perfect alibi: “I was just picking up a dress,” or “Meeting a friend for tea.”
But here’s the irony: today’s digital surveillance—smartphones, shared calendars, location tracking—has made that kind of discretion nearly impossible. And that changes everything. The 5 to 7, if it ever truly existed as a widespread practice, was a product of analog life.
Modern Reality: Do People Still Have “5 to 7” Affairs?
Ask a random Parisian if they’ve had a “5 to 7” and you’ll likely get a shrug—or a smirk. Some younger people don’t even know the term. Others use it ironically. “Oh yes, I’ve got my 5 to 7 with my yoga instructor,” they’ll say, rolling their eyes. It’s become a cliché, a retro affectation.
But beneath the surface, infidelity hasn’t vanished. A 2022 IFOP poll found that 27% of French adults admitted to having cheated on a partner at least once. That’s slightly lower than the U.S. (29%) but higher than Germany (19%). So people are still straying. The difference? It’s less about timing and more about opportunity. Hookup apps, work trips, coworker flirtations—today’s affairs are less poetic, more impulsive.
And do they happen between 5 and 7? Maybe. But not because there’s a cultural expectation. It’s just when people are free. A teacher finishes at 4:30. A consultant has a gap between meetings. It’s logistics, not libertinage. The romance of the “stolen hour” has been replaced by the efficiency of the “lunch break fling.”
The issue remains: we’re mistaking nostalgia for current practice. The 5 to 7 isn’t dead. It’s just been digitized, fragmented, and stripped of its glamour.
The Cultural Perception Gap: France vs. the Anglo-Saxon World
Where it gets tricky is the outside view. Anglo-American media loves the “French affair” trope. Think of films like Les Liaisons Dangereuses or TV shows where a Parisian character casually says, “Oh, affairs? We see them as a sign of vitality.” It’s a convenient narrative: the French are sophisticated, we’re puritanical. They understand passion. We repress it.
But that’s a caricature. Most French people don’t see cheating as charming. A 2020 CSA survey showed that 63% of respondents considered infidelity a “serious betrayal,” while only 12% saw it as “understandable under certain circumstances.” So much for the laissez-faire stereotype.
And yet, the legal and social frameworks are different. France doesn’t have “alimony” in the American sense. Divorce is relatively straightforward. And emotional monogamy isn’t always seen as the bedrock of marriage. Some philosophers, like Pascal Bruckner, argue that the French accept love’s imperfections—they don’t demand fairy tales. “We tolerate the mess,” he once said. “You want it clean.”
That said, younger generations are shifting. With globalization, #MeToo, and greater gender equality, the old double standards are eroding. A man having a “5 to 7” used to raise fewer eyebrows than a woman. Now? Not so much. The rules are being rewritten—and not by nostalgia.
Why Foreigners Overestimate French Permissiveness
Because France has a reputation. It’s the land of Sartre and de Beauvoir, who had an open relationship. Of Bardot, smoking in bed with a lover. Of café flirtations and risqué films. Tourists walk into Paris expecting seduction around every corner. But walk through the 15th arrondissement at 6 p.m. and what do you see? Parents picking up kids from school. People shopping for groceries. Commuters on the Métro, eyes glued to phones.
It’s a bit like expecting every Italian to sing opera in the shower. The stereotype overshadows the mundane. And the French themselves are tired of it. “We’re not all sleeping around,” one woman in Lyon told me. “We just don’t moralize as much.” There’s a difference.
The Role of Media and Literature in Shaping the Myth
Let’s not underestimate the power of storytelling. French literature, in particular, has long treated desire as a legitimate force—dangerous, yes, but also human. From Choderlos de Laclos to Annie Ernaux, French writers explore infidelity with psychological depth, not judgment. Ernaux’s L’Occupation details a passionate affair with a Soviet diplomat—no excuses, no apologies. Just observation.
That literary tradition feeds the myth. But literature isn’t life. The thing is, novels amplify what’s exceptional. They don’t document what’s average. And that’s exactly where the distortion happens.
5 to 7 vs. Modern Dating: Is There Even a Comparison?
Trying to compare the “5 to 7” to today’s dating culture is like comparing a typewriter to an AI chatbot. Same function—communication—but entirely different mechanics. The 5 to 7 was constrained by time, class, and secrecy. Modern affairs are shaped by apps, flexibility, and blurred boundaries.
Consider the rise of “micro-cheating”—a term barely known in France but gaining traction: liking an ex’s photo, late-night texting, emotional intimacy without physical contact. It’s not a two-hour rendezvous. It’s a slow erosion of loyalty, pixel by pixel. And it can happen at 2 a.m. or 2 p.m. No schedule needed.
Yet, the emotional calculus remains similar. Guilt. Excitement. Fear of discovery. The desire to be wanted. That hasn’t changed. The packaging has.
Frequently Asked Questions
Is the 5 to 7 Still Common in Paris?
Not in the way people imagine. You won’t find a calendar app with a “5 to 7” setting. But discreet meetings? Sure. Just not under that label. It’s more common among older, affluent couples—those who remember the era when it was a social script. For millennials, it’s more likely to be a late-night text than a candlelit hour.
Do French Couples Accept Affairs More Than Other Cultures?
Accept is too strong. Tolerate? Sometimes. A 2018 study in Revue Française de Sociologie found that 41% of French couples in long-term relationships had experienced infidelity—but only 18% of those relationships ended because of it. Compare that to the U.S., where infidelity is a leading cause of divorce. So there’s a difference in response. But acceptance? We’re far from it.
Is the 5 to 7 a Gendered Practice?
Historically, yes. The stereotype was of a married man visiting a kept woman or a mistress. But by the 1970s, feminist writers like Catherine Millet challenged that. Her 2001 memoir The Sexual Life of Catherine M. detailed her own sexual freedom—outside marriage, without shame. That changed the conversation. Today, if affairs happen, they’re more likely to be mutual—or at least equally scrutinized.
The Bottom Line: A Myth with a Kernel of Truth
The 5 to 7 was never a national pastime. It was a niche behavior, romanticized by art and exaggerated by outsiders. The idea that French people have a socially sanctioned affair window is overblown. But it wasn’t pulled from thin air. It emerged from a specific time, class, and set of social norms that allowed for discretion.
I am convinced that the phrase survives because it serves a purpose: it lets us imagine a world where desire isn’t suppressed but managed. Elegant. Controlled. Adult. We know it’s unrealistic. But we like the idea.
So yes, the 5 to 7 is “a thing”—but not in the way most people think. It’s a cultural ghost. A metaphor for a certain kind of Frenchness: sophisticated, ambiguous, slightly dangerous. And honestly, it is unclear whether it ever existed outside the minds of novelists and tourists.
But if you’re in Paris, and someone says, “I can’t meet after seven,” you might want to ask why. Just don’t assume it’s for dinner. (Or do. Either way, mind your own business.)