Rich Italian Gentlemen. More of these, please.
April 7, 2014 § 2 Comments
There’s a website that some of the other au pairs use called ‘Conversation Exchange’, where you tell them your name, location and the language you want to learn, and you can send and receive messages from people to meet up and ‘exchange conversation’ in your various mother tongues to help improve each other’s understanding. A great concept, but here, unfortunately, it’s slightly morphed into a site where Italian men perve on young English and American girls.
So naturally I signed up.
In my defence, all of the stories I’d heard of people meeting off the site had been good(ish). Plus I wanted to practise my Italian of course. And was in no way looking for an incredibly handsome Italian to buy me nice food and serenade me on walks through Roman ruins. None of that at all.
Last night was a ‘conversation exchange’ with a young (by my standard) Italian man by the name of Davide. Davide is extremely short, blonde and talks incessantly fast. Not an incredible start when sleepy from a day at the beach (life in Italy’s hard, ok?) with little ability to remember how to talk competently in English, let alone a foreign language. However we soon established my lack of linguistic skill and compromised accordingly, using English and more straightforward Italian (consisting of ‘ciao’ and a series of hand gestures) from then on.
He took me to this fancy restaurant (I call it fancy, it was probably middle range, but being an impoverished au pair the fact that it wasn’t pizza al taglio was more than impressive) where we discussed a range of classic first date topics, only slightly stunted by the language barrier.
I find the biggest difference between Italian and British guys is the sense of humour. Italian’s are perfectly pleasant, very open and honest, generally better looking and in many ways superior to the males of the UK. But they don’t have a sense of humour. This is a pretty big downfall in my opinion. I like to come away from a date having had a decent chuckle, but they take everything so seriously here, I come away not knowing whether it was any good, because although it was an enjoyable affair, there was not a chortle in sight. That’s important when establishing a connection, I feel. If you can’t laugh at a man, what on earth are you meant to do with him?
He paid for everything of course, which I’ve no idea how much it was (one never looks at the prices of things when with an Italian gent), but it included two very delicious courses and some damn classy tasting wine. The icing on the cake, however, was the ride home.
Up until this point, I hadn’t really felt like Davide was trying to impress me, which was both refreshing and slightly disconcerting. Am I not worthy of your sordid attempts to woo me? Or perhaps my mind had been sullied into thinking all Italians were like that from my previous successful experiences. I digress.
He insisted on driving me home, having gotten myself there on foot, and his car… I am so unused to dating men with money so I really hadn’t expected anything. Now, I know nothing about cars, but I know he paid some ridiculous sum for this little beauty. He was adamant on taking the roof off, which was very cool. Having fresh Italian night air whip through you air as you break speed limits is pretty darn fun. I sorta get the sugar daddy appeal now.
He asked to see me again for drinks sometime, which of course I will. In honesty there wasn’t really a spark with Davide, but I did enjoy his company. And yeah, it might be nice to be taken to a few posh places now again… I wouldn’t complain. I’m only here for a few more months, and I bloody well intend to make the most of it.