This is a 2003 realist song from French singer-songwriter and actor Bénabar.
This particular version was filmed by college students.
Credits after this description.
It is an ode to the less popular girl from school who used to sleep with the boys to give herself a small feeling of importance.
She bumps into one of them years later. Married and settled, the guy doesn’t remember her. She reminds him she was that one girl at school who was invisible, overlooked and taken advantage of. Regarded as easy prey for a one-night stand and popping one’s cherry.
However, she describes how pathetic the boys were, queuing up to meet her, giving bravado to their friends once “they’d had her”; yet never admitting in public that they had slept with her.
Looking at their puerile attitude, as she wasn’t considered one of the cool or pretty girls, the fact that she was taken advantage of due to her generosity and sincerity. And reminiscing about how they boasted about their sexual exploits to their friends, yet they weren’t as confident when they were in her bed.
The tone of the voice indicates that Nathalie, now settled and content, has the last laugh on them.
That also applies to the popular girls, too, who would have “shaven her head if it were a different era”
In France during WWII, French women who had slept with German men were shaved at the end of the war, as they were seen as traitors. Yet, often, those women had been raped or coerced by their circumstances. A public shaming from the righteous people that was later frowned upon in hindsight.
Looking deeper into the meaning, it critiques our current superficial and hypocritical society with those seen as have and have-not solely based on their appearances and influencing the respect others pays them.
Credits for the film:
Montage : Terra-Léger-Goodes Réalisation : Mattis Savard Produced for a media course at the secondary school Paul-Gérin-Lajoie-d’Outremont. Avec : Terra-Léger-Goodes, Aaricia Gagnon, Emma Beardsley, Philipp Grinstein, Adrien Lesage-Clawson, Noelia Tucuna, Judith Carvalho, Vicky Léger, Pascal St-Vincent.
Tiens, qu’est-ce que tu fais là
C’est moi, c’est Nathalie
Quoi tu m’reconnais pas,
mais si
On était ensemble au lycée
C’est vrai, j’ai changé
J’ai des enfants, un mari
Ben quoi, t’as l’air surpris
J’étais pas destinée
À une vie bien rangée
J’étais perdue
Mon mari m’a trouvé
J’étais de celles
Qui disent jamais non
Des marie-couche-toi-là
Dont on oublie le nom
J’étais pas la jolie
Moi j’étais sa copine
Celle qu’on voit à peine
Qu’on appelle machine
J’avais deux ans de plus
Peut-être deux ans de trop
Et j’aimais les garçons
Peut-être un peu trop
Bien sûr vous aviez eu
Des dizaines de conquêtes
Que personne n’avait vues
Toujours pendant les fêtes
Pour beaucoup d’entre vous
Je suis la première fois
De celles qui comptent
Mais pas tant que ça
Je n’étais pas de celles
À qui l’on fait la cour
Moi j’étais de celles
Qui sont déjà d’accord
Vous veniez chez moi
Mais dès le lendemain
Vous refusiez en public
De me tenir la main
Et quand vous m’embrassiez
À l’abri des regards
Je savais pourquoi
Pour pas qu’on puisse nous voir
Alors, j’fermais les yeux
À m’en fendre les paupières
Pendant que pour guetter
Vous les gardiez ouverts
Je me répétais
Faut pas qu’je m’attache
Vous, vous pensiez
Il faut pas que ça se sache
Mais une fois dans mes bras
Vos murmures essoufflés
C’est à moi, rien qu’à moi
Qu’ils étaient destinés
Enlacée contre vous
À respirer vos cheveux
Je le sais, je l’affirme
Vous m’aimiez un peu
Certaines tombent amoureuses
C’est pur, ça les élèves
Moi j’tombais amoureuse
Comme on tombe d’une chaise
Et gonflé de l’avoir fait
Vous donniez conférence
Une souris qu’on dissèque
Mon corps pour la science
Je nourrissais
Vos blagues de casernes
Que vous pensiez viriles
Petits hommes de cavernes
D’avoir pour moi
Un seul mot de tendresse
Vous apparaissez
Comme la pire des faiblesses
Vous, les fier-à-bras
Vous parliez en experts
Oubliant qu’dans mes bras
Vous faisiez moins les fiers
Et les autres filles
Perfides petites saintes
M’auraient tondu les ch’veux
À une autre époque
Celles qui ont l’habitude
Qu’on les cajole
Ignorent la solitude
Que rien ne console
Vous veniez chez moi
Mais dès le lendemain
Vous r’fusiez en public
De me tenir la main
There, what are you doing here?
It’s me, it’s Nathalie.
What? Don’t you recognise me?
But yes,
we were in high school together.
It’s true, I’ve changed.
I have children and a husband.
Well, you look surprised.
I was not destined
for a straight life.
I was lost.
My husband found me.
I was one of those
who never said no.
One of those village bicycles
whose name gets forgotten.
I wasn’t the pretty one.
I was just her mate
the one you barely notice
The one they call “Thingy”
I was two years older
Maybe 2 years too old.
And I loved the lads
Maybe a little too much.
Of course, you had
dozens of conquests
that no one had ever seen
always during parties
for many of you.
I am the first one
of those who matter
But probably not that much.
I was not one of those
You tried to court
I was one of those
Who had already said yes
You were coming to my place
But the very next day,
In public, you refused
to hold my hand.
And when you kissed me
out of sight,
I knew the reason.
So they couldn’t see us.
Then I closed my eyes
to weep until my eyes stung
but in order to watch out
You kept yours wide open.
I was telling myself
I cannot get attached.
And what you thought
best no one knows about it
but once within my arms
Your breathless whispers.
were for me and only me
that they were intended.
held against your body
Smelling your hair.
I know it and say so.
You did like me a little.
Some fall in love.
It is wholly. It raises them up
Me, I was falling in love
as one falls off a chair
And boasted of having done it
You were giving speeches to your friends
a mouse that was dissected
my body for science
I was the butt of
Your barracks jokes.
That you believed manly
Little cavemen.
as you didn’t have
a single tender word for me
You came across
as the lowest of the weak.
You and your bravado
You spoke in expert terms
forgetting that in my arms.
You were not as proud
and the other girls
perfidious little saints
would have shaved my head
in another era
those who are used to
being cajoled
have no idea about the loneliness
That nothing can console.
You came to my place
But the next day
In public, you refused
to hold my hand.
Between the French lyrics 
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