Pay attention, fellas, because we are doing it all wrong! Canada, and other “Anglo” countries, probably including Northern Europeans, as well.
Well, I already knew that we were doing it wrong, but this reader explains “how.” I guess I should also point out that this discussion mostly includes Italian women with men from Australia, the U. Men from other parts of Mediterranean Europe or South America might not struggle as much. So what I’d like to do here is to present her comments, and then offer my observations in response.
Without further ado, gentlemen (and curious ladies), I give you the reader known only as “Female G” from Perth. I am an Italian woman in my late 30’s living in Australia.
I immigrated here 10 years ago, and I must say that I totally agree with you.
Even when born in a different country, true Italian women take their heritage to heart.
Dating one is like guaranteeing yourself a lifetime of amazing food, deep respect, close family ties, and fiery passion both in and out of the bedroom.
It would be unseemly and in poor taste and god forbid we might look foolish. And it makes you burp, another activity frowned upon. Speaking of which, Italian women are absolutely convinced there is no better food than Italian.
Italians live up to their reputation as being some of the most beautiful people on earth.
Footballer Fabio Cannavaro, pictured here, is one of countless Italians to have captured hearts with his classic dark hair and olive skin.
Many of them seem to commute on a regular basis and at first it was hard for me to relate to most of them, what with my nomadic instincts, my cultural full immersion and the rejection of everything Italian I wasn’t too fond of – yes, there are facets to the bel paese anyone would be willing and happy to reject.
Someone asked me at our latest gathering if I knew of a good Catholic Church on the Westside and I had to swallow hard not spatter my margarita over her dress – after 15 years in LA I am not aware of a single Catholic Church, west or east side, and I just demurred, skipping over my churchgoing days ending over three decades ago.