Sunday, March 20, 2005
Italian Men: Uncovering the Mystery ??- According to Chicago Sun Times

The ANNOTICO Report

I take issue with both Ms. Jenkins, and  Mr. Epstein, and their 25 cent psychoanaysis of  "mammonis".

I'm WAY too Independent to be a "Mammoni", but they are Not the American version of a "Momma's Boy", where they are under their  Mother's "control".

It is instead a matter of enjoying the benefits of living at home (the price is right, and the service terrific), the comaraderie of the family, a full and varied "social" life, and none of the responsibilities, AND giving one the opportunity to mature, and make a wiser choice of a mate, who is also more mature.

"Needy" people would consider such a sensible attitude, as "relationship phobic", whereas, mammonnis would consider their approach as "divorce", or "failure"  adverse!!!

I was also amused that Ms. Jenkins had to label any man that would not stick around until she was ready to "ditch" him as "a jerk"!!! :) :)


Thanks to Walter Santi
UNCOVERING THE MYSTERY OF ITALIAN MEN
Chicago Sun Times
By Maureen Jenkins
March 20, 2005
FLORENCE, Italy -- Since I arrived here six months ago, my family, friends and acquaintances have been curious about life in my adopted country: Don't you get tired of eating pasta every day? Is the weather as cold as Chicago's? Do you really dry your laundry on a clothesline that hangs outside your window?
But hands down, the No. 1 question from women, regardless of age, race or marital status, has got to be, "But what about those Italian MEN??!!" If I had a dollar for every friend who told me to bring them one home as a souvenir, I'd be a wealthy girl.
I guess it makes sense, seeing as the raven-haired, stylishly dressed descendants of Roman gods are legendary the world over. What heterosexual woman, whatever her ethnicity or cultural background, isn't at least a little bit intrigued by the myth of the Italian man, one who can sweep a normally rational female off her feet with the lyrical-sounding salute of "Ciao, bella!"? Women the world over may claim to visit Italy for its leather goods and Renaissance art, but I'll bet an equal number make pilgrimages here secretly hoping to meet a gorgeous Giancarlo, Paolo or Andrea, whether for lifelong love or just a few days of romantic adventure. I must admit I'd fallen under the spell, having met an Italian ragazzo -- one eight years younger than me, no less -- while on a solo vacation in San Francisco's North Beach back in 2001.
Years before I decided to move to this country, I remember my well-traveled aunt advising me, "If you ever need a self-esteem boost, take yourself to Italy!" And once my girlfriends and I got here for a visit, we understood clearly what she meant. Italian men seem so romantic, so sexy, so mysterious to foreign females because they clearly appreciate women. And it's an equal-opportunity thing. Their taste isn't limited to Barbie-doll shaped blond ones, but to women with robust figures. With skin shades that range from vanilla to deep-dark chocolate. Those with flowing long hair, and those with hardly any. So to American women who are used to constantly berating themselves for their abundant curves, for failing to meet the fickle beauty standards set by the arbiters of such things in our own country, a trip to Italy is like a much-needed balm.
Besides, travel has an artful way of exposing us to encounters and experiences we'd likely shy away from at home -- and that's especially true when possible romance slides into the picture. And when you're on the road, there's always the temptation to step outside yourself and into some fantasy, with you in the starring role.
Popular films like 2003's "Under the Tuscan Sun" -- based very loosely on the best-selling memoir from Frances Mayes -- have only helped fuel the mystique of the Latin lover. This "chick flick" featured Diane Lane as a recently dumped-and-divorced thirtysomething San Francisco writer who impulsively buys an aging villa during a spontaneous trip to bella Italia. Through the heroine's eyes, the film showed the pure joy of self-discovery that comes from recreating one's own life -- but what would such a flick be without the eventual appearance of the tall, dark and handsome Marcello (Raoul Bova)? As usually is the case in real life, the romance didn't last, but oh, during the couple's sensual romance scenes in postcard-perfect Positano, I'll bet each woman in every "Tuscan Sun"-showing theater wished she could have sampled that slice of la dolce vita.
Of course, it's often true that familiarity breeds contempt, that we're attracted to those who seem so different from those we know at home. And we magnify those differences in our minds and memories. Three years after our trip to Rome, one of my girlfriends says she can still recall the heady cologne worn by the friendly taxi driver who transported us from the airport. Even today, we laugh about the flirtatious guards at the Vatican museums (they're not monks, after all), and how one particularly attractive one called this same friend "carina," or "pretty," throwing her so off balance that she tumbled down the stairs leading from Michelangelo's famed Sistine Chapel. Guess she got swept away by an artistic vision of the Italian male kind.
It's one thing to meet a beautiful Antonio or Massimo while on vacation and imagine happily-ever-after, but real life may present culture shock. The whole notion of "mammoni," or Italian men whose lives revolve around their mothers to a much larger extent than is true of American men, is no joke. CNN.com recently reported that according to Italy's National Research Center, 36.5 percent of Italian men in their early 30s still live at home -- and as I've found from personal experience, that includes college-educated ones with good jobs. I remember going on a first date with a studly 30-year-old Italian ragazzo I'll call Fabrizio -- and being invited after the date to his room for a glass of wine. A room in his parents' house, complete with bunk beds. Not exactly a sexy invitation for us independent American women used to living on our own since college.
As author Alan Epstein notes in his memoir As the Romans Do: An American Family's Italian Odyssey, "Some say that the consensus of the world's collective imagination that Italian men are the greatest lovers comes from their attachment to their mothers -- Italian men are so used to being solicitous of women because they are solicitous to their mothers that it is nothing for them to talk, to flatter, to compliment, to touch lightly in a friendly/interested way, to flirt, to comport themselves with irresistible ease and grace in the company of women."
And those of us foreign women who travel here -- or who, like me, have decided to park ourselves here for a while -- benefit daily from their largess.
That doesn't mean that all this over-the-top gushing is legit. Just last weekend, I visited one of my favorite Florentine ristoranti, one where the gorgeous owner (who I'll call Massimo) flits from table to table, flirting with different girls throughout the night. Less than an hour after insisting I go out with him, I saw him making out with some American blond at the bar, in clear view of half the restaurant. But that didn't stop Massimo from whispering to me on my way out the door, "I will be looking to hear from you." He actually seemed hurt when I looked him in the eye and said clearly, "Likely story." Perhaps he figures it's all in a day's work, that as a good-looking, unmarried Italian man, it's his duty to serve as much of womankind as he can.
Experiences like these make you realize that for better and worse, men everywhere are pretty much the same. Sure, Italian guys may flirt more obviously and dress more stylishly than those in the Midwest, but no group of men in any culture has the market cornered on honesty. Decency. Or good old-fashioned trust. Rather than being charming plastic stereotypes, Italian men are merely human. My Mercedes convertible-driving Fabrizio disappeared like a puff of smoke weeks into our relationship, but I'm sure that had less to do with him being Italian than him being a jerk. And likewise, this country is full of thoughtful, kind-hearted men who truly respect women and view us not as objects but as intelligent and fascinating people.
So ladies, visit Italy with open minds, admire the scenery and flirt proudly with its men if you so desire. Just remember that common sense is one thing that shouldn't get lost in translation.
Chicago native and free-lance writer Maureen Jenkins writes monthly about her expatriate experiences in Europe for the Chicago Sun-Times Travel section.
http://www.suntimes.com/output/
travel/tra-news-notes20.html