When I told my friends that I was going to Italy, they were mostly jealous for several reasons: some were –like me- very platonically romantic with the country and culture, others were jealous for the hedonistic aspects (mainly shopping, art, views, food and wines), and the single ones, for the men!
I would say, however, that Italian men are for women what ‘shallow pretty women’ are for men. They seem charming, but what they are, is: generous in giving compliments (regardless of fairness/appropriateness), and bold in making invitations. However, how interesting is this when they are showering compliments to almost every female and making their heads ‘revolving’ to check out almost every female? And if they are fast in making an invitation to me, they might as well be with someone else.
When I listen at the airport to the first few “Ciao Bella!”, I smile. After a few days of being in Rome, “ciao bella” has become less than a “hey”. What sounded unique and enchanting (just as a side-effect of coming from a different culture and idiosyncrasy) has become massive, vulgar, anything but special and charming.
When you perceive being checked-out by some attractive Italian on the street, you immediately think –particularly coming from Saxon countries- “I am real! I am NOT invisible!” After seeing almost every man running MRIs of almost every woman, you start despising them when the next pair of eyes poses on you.
Believe it or not, I came to these conclusions just being a city-hiker and observer, and later on, observing the men in my family and their friends. Although I had a couple of experiences that make a good story (because they do not make a good experience), I will have to leave them for upcoming postings…!
3 comments:
Yo propondría para terminar este artículo con una sonrisa, y rescatar al "macho" italiano, que nadie es profeta en su tierra. Idealmente hemos de encontrarnos con un italiano en otro país, y sus piropos tendrán el efecto devastador que toda mujer merece experimentar de vez en cuando. Al fin y al cabo, quién quiere un italiano para toda la vida? Pero qué bueno que existan... al menos por un rato.
Sabias palabras! :) :) :)
Y quiero agregar que el piropo en mí muchas veces depende de cómo me siento. Si estoy en un buen día, es algo más que se suma para que me sienta bien. Si estoy en un mal día, me parece muy tonto que alguien me encuentre atractiva cuando yo lo único que quiero es esconderme 10 metros bajo tierra.
En realidad, el posteo fue la introduccion a todo un tema. Menchu, lo que decis acerca de "un Italiano para siempre"... mira la segunda parte, dicho por una bolonyesa. ;)
Los piropos... ahhhh! Don't get me wrong. Me encantan! Solo que depende de quien vienen: si es alguien interesante, son un lift-me-up y me arrancan una sonrisa. Si vienen de alguien despreciable (fisicamente o por su comportamiento), pues me causan mas repulsion aun! Y si ademas ves que son repartidos a TODA (o casi) persona de sexo femenino, pierden su encanto, asi vengan del tano mas encantador!
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