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They are proud of their heritage and love their home country. This may also be what makes Italian men so self-assured when approaching foreign women.

Basically, if you’ve ever dated a Jewish guy, you should be ok. Every girl in Capri was groomed to an extent that I have previously only seen in my native Russia – think full makeup, off-the-runway Dolce, and torture via stilettos on cobblestones.

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laura vandervoort dating history - 0 dating in italy

I began growing more intrigued by the handsome species that seemed so quick to conquer women’s hearts. White jeans, perfectly pressed shirts, crispy pastel blazers, pocket squares… While we generally failed on the Capri dating scene, my girlfriend did manage to have an experience in Napoli with a lovely police officer names Giuseppe. Although we got through that evening’s dramatics, his love for me faded about a day after I left Rome.

(Presumably to get rid of him.) At 34, he finally resides on his own, but still hadn’t gotten around to buying furniture, as he prefers to eat dinner at his mother’s. But, apparently, “if you get the right one, they’re the most incredible men in the world”.

“Don’t contradict anything they say about their moms”, ads my friend. Again, let’s listen to the native here: “They need taking care of – you must remind them of their mom. Pretend you do and just order takeaway.” In fact, they seem to expect a certain level of effort in all departments. They will love you to pieces, shower you with attention, and give you beautiful dark-haired children, resulting in a “perfect Loro Piana family”.

And so, I put together my observations, enlisting the help of an Italian girlfriend for some insider insight on what these men are really like. And they smell fantastic, like they all bathed in a tub of Acqua di Gio! Meaning that, from the time they are small children, everything is done by their mothers. Giuseppe could only speak English via Google Translator, yet this did not stop him from hanging out with us twice, taking us out for lunch, and driving us to the airport on our last day. (Since I wasn’t that heartbroken, I still occasionally send him my dental X-rays for second opinion.) 7. I recently witnessed one of my girlfriends get swept off her feet by an Italian guy, resulting in some very entertaining vacation adventures. Her Don Juan happened to be , something my friend found out via Facebook an hour after they had bid arrivederci.

It’s difficult to picture who in God’s name has time for all that pampering and laundering and ironing, until you find out that… My own Italian experience involves a Roman dentist named Mario who lived with his parents until the age of 30, three years after they had purchased him his own apartment. Find me a French man who would do that, and I will find you a monkey that can play Tchaikovsky. She wasn’t even stalking him – he had volunteered his information to “keep in touch”.

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