Ahead of all your Valentines Day shenanigans, one piece of advice…Keep ‘er lit!
“Come with me, little girl,” said Fausto, leading me back inside. “I’ll light your candy cigarette for you.”
The easiness of us surprised me. I had thought a relationship with an Italian man would be fuelled by arguments and accusations, judging by the amount of couples I came upon in the street doing their impression of a Punch and Judy show. I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the old stereotypes until I realized Italians wholly embraced them: women liked to be whistled at because it signified an appreciation of their femininity and the efforts they made with their appearance; men wore the lothario label proudly as a tribute to their manhood; both sexes considered outlandish exhibitions of jealousy a sign of devotion, and any reference to their highly strung personality was amended with the word ‘passionate’ and accepted with a shrug.
However, in Fausto, I had stumbled upon the antitype: reflective and…
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