Funny stuff and pretending I’m Italian

The vast majority of people who have read my blog are looking for information about Italian men.

I wrote one post about Italian men and my ridiculous adoration for them. Plus a few other things about Italy and movies and such.

I had no idea that Italian men would be such a draw. True, I find them charming and fascinating and wonderful. But, I tend to obsess about things (and people).

I could tell you about the Mafioso who approached me in Assisi, but walked away when he learned I was not Italian. (“Che peccato,” [What a shame] he said as he looked me up and down. Then left with a sweet, “Ciao bella.”)

The amazing men I met in Pisa and discussed which Italian discovered America. (Amerigo Vespucci or Cristoforo Columbo)

The man who continually circled the block in his car as I walked, asking me out on dates.

The men I met in a lake resort town on Lago Maggiore and spend an evening just walking and talking.

I guess I am lucky. I have lived some truly cinema-esque moments.

On the surface, Italian men are smooth, romantic and wonderful. I’ve heard rumor that some aren’t so great to be married to. (And I was convinced by one Italian not to marry another because “all Italian men cheat.”) But, I love the little bubble of ignorant bliss I live in.

I guess I should tell some of my Italian men stories more in depth. Although, I think I need to go back to Italy to meet some more. It’s time to start saving.

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