Italian Men - PC?!

When and how did Italian men fall prey to the wave of political correctness? Why am I always “a day late”? Or decade….? To quote a 1997 piece from The Tattoo: “Too many Italian men have no pride, shame or tact. They do not just flirt, they follow, grab, pinch…” Sounds to me like the last site on planet earth where a chubby, middle-aged, long-married woman might experience a bit of flirtation.

Okay, okay, I really didn’t want to be pinched. I would have settled for a wink. A kiss blown across a crowded metro. An unexpected “Ciao bella…” Sigh.

I believe that I am as much of a feminist as the average woman. But one simply cannot be a fan of movies of the 1950’s and 1960’s without developing a fine fantasy of Italy, and therefore, Italian men as sexy. Consider: Roman Holiday, Rome Adventure (a bit silly), Summer Time, Seven Hills of Rome (musical), and Three Coins in the Fountain. Even more recently: La Vita e Bella (Life is Beautiful), Only You, A Room With a View, Bread and Tulips, and Merchant of Venice.

Need I say more? I’ll wait while you fan yourself and recover from the mere mention of those fantastic (and sexy) films.

Well, I’m back from a week in Rome with an accurate report. Pinches = 0, Winks = 0, Blown Kisses = 0, Ciao Bella = 1, then I realized he was speaking to the woman next to me on the metro. Since they boarded together, and were both wearing wedding bands … well, you figure it out.

During my stay in Rome there were only three men worth standing in line to see: Michelangelo's Zeus, the Pope, and Steve. Since Steve came home with me, the count is now 2. None of them pinched me. Steve does wink and blow kisses, but never could master “Ciao Bella” – his version sounded a bit like “Cowbella”. Also, I do believe that Steve is much more fun to stand in line with than either Michelangelo or the Pope would be.

Rome is a city of opposites,

• The most beautiful artwork countered by more graffiti than New York City. The wall surrounding Vatican City had been “tagged”.
• Spotless table linens in restaurants, from the finest dining to the casual trattoria, countered by litter. Litter everywhere – even in St. Peter’s Square.
• “La Dolce Vita” – the sweet life – where all are encouraged to linger at dining tables, to talk, laugh, and argue over a lengthy meal, no hurry to turn the table quickly, countered by Italian traffic. Frenetic, buzzing, urgent. Pedestrians scurry as crossing signs have little meaning to drivers, especially Vespa drivers. The key to crossing the street – “never look ‘em in the eye, never let ‘em see your fear” (from my study-abroad daughter, Emily).
• The approach of waiters in “keeping your tab” as you dine. It goes like this: you mime that you want your tab and then wait another 30 minutes, or so (see bullet #2 above). The waiter appears at your table with a blank sheet of paper and asks what you have had. You tell them, they write a number on the page, you pay, rounding up to the next even Euro, and everyone is happy. To counter this mealtime honor system are the ever present pickpockets, fearless and bold, on the streets, the metro, the busses, and in lines. I was told that the average Roman resident has their pocket picked eight times per year.

So, given this tendency toward opposites, I am writing this to all handsome Italian men (especially Romans). It’s not too late! Political correctness is well…correct, and no, women do NOT want to be pinched, groped or otherwise manhandled. But, would a little wink to a middle-aged tourist hurt? Go ahead, make my day.