30 July 2002


I'm starting to take some cultural differences for granted.

Upon reading yesterday's rant on vainglorious preening cocks, some one asked if I had been honest or if said strutting peacocks suffered from selective listening skills. The simple answer is yes on both counts. "I don't want to dance right now, I'm talking with my friends" seems (to me) a pretty obvious brush-off, not to mention somewhat tactful. I might be a rude bitch, but I do know how to interact with society at large. So Drool Boy suffered from selective listening skills, right? Hmm, not that simple, methinks.

The stereotype of aggressive Latin lovers has its roots in certain (generalised) truths, as do most stereotypes, for better or for worse. Not a day goes by here without some Italian male commenting on my looks (or any other female for that matter). For some foreign females, this is a massive annoyance and reinforces preconceived ideas about Italia's misogynist culture. "What pigs!" This takes on a bit too much of a Femi-Nazi, puritanical Anglo-Saxonish mentality for my tastes. Italian males have a natural, healthy appreciation for the female form, in all its shapes and sizes. What in Christ's hairy nutsack is so evil about that? Granted, there will always be one or two morons who will take it to extremes, but it's a natural human appetite to be attracted to that which is visually pleasing, as well as that which is intellectually pleasing. Which is why we were born with eyes and brains instead of just one or the other. Can anyone really honestly tell me physical attraction plays no part whatsoever in their sex lives? Even if it's just a cute mole or thick eyelashes or a smile, there is always something about your partner that attracts you in a visual sense (beer goggles are excluded from this discussion ;-) ). Some will cry "It's objectification! I am more than just my tits!" Fair enough. But going from pure objectification of the female form to the complete opposite end of the spectrum where the natural beauty of the body is completely ignored- well, that's just as bad in my book. I am the sum of my parts; tits, ass, brain, penchant for parenthesis, etc.

Hmm. Getting way off topic. I'll save that rant for another day.

So why do the males here continuously comment on by-passing females? Why do polite refusals to dance not deter them?

Do you know how hard it is to pick up an Italian female? Oof.

There's a saying that I learned recently, in respects to females and dating here in Italia: Farlo sudare sette camicie. Literal translation: make them sweat through seven shirts. In other words, it is very, very rare an Italian girl will jump into the sack on the first date (i.e seven shirts, seven dates.) So she makes the guy court her over a prolonged period of time. Sound medieval? Remember this is a country with some deep Catholic roots, and even if many only pay lip service to the church and its mores, one must always fare una bella figura (make a good impression). And Italians looooove to gossip. In the area where I live, everyone knows everyone else and news travels fast. For example, the Rebound Boy Toy I dated for a while last year lives in this area. If we had a fight, pretty much everyone knew about it. (I don't even want to think what sort of crap went zooming around after I dumped him.)

So an Italian girl will make the guy sweat. And if you think my all-time important questions on dating an Italian guy are harsh, well, let's just say a lot of Italian girls can be a bit classist. If they don't like the guy's job, or if it seems like his prospects aren't good, tough titties and addio.

No wonder why Italian guys are 'aggressive'; it's born of necessity. Which is not to say Drool Boy was in any way normal in his obtuseness. Nope, not at all. Normally Italian guys will be a bit pushy, but they usually get the hint when a girl isn't interested. Drool Boy didn't. Or else thought if he pushed enough, I would finally melt at his feet like a good little foreign girl and beg for him to take me home and ravish me. Basically, he was just plain dumb.


And the date last night went well. I didn't make an idiot out of myself, he was polite, and it was all-around good food, good wine, good company. I'm thinking of making him sweat seven shirts... Just kidding.

I've already made the poor thing go through four. ;-P

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