He got your intent, and your meaning from context and that's most of communicating. The important thing is you went home later that night, stared miserably at a mirror and repeated "merci, merciii, mercy" in between shots of vodka.
We rode in the cab back to my apartment from the vegan restaurant where the food played a circus with my insides. The French driver greeted us warmly, I said something unintelligible with the few bon mots I knew and threw in a pardonnez ma pronunciation, je ne parle pas vraiment la français mais la femme ne sait pas...
“Votre français est bon!”
And I replied with a you’re welcome instead.
Bonne nuit indeed.