But even if he did zone in on the “right” places, the “Italian” nightspots, he would only be able to admire these beautiful women from a distance.And not because he’s American, but because Italian women generally don’t go to bars to meet guys.
The possibilities are then endless, though admittedly limited both to the types of guys at bars and to the scope of their intentions.
Here, on the other hand, to meet each other, an Italian girl and an Italian guy need to be properly introduced by a mutual friend or acquaintance, they need to be presentati, presented to one another.
This difference in customs may not seem significant, but while we foreigners complain about how hard it is to meet people in our respective countries, Italians have it that much harder. (You’d be shocked at the number of coeds who have never been on the classic dinner and a movie date.) Similarly, we foreign girls ruin it for Italian women, and just as my Jewish friend Audrey gets upset every time she meets a nice Jewish boy who’s got an Asian girlfriend, I imagine Italian women are none too pleased.
My first Italian teacher here, obviously in frequent contact with foreigners, understood the problem, and, being in the unusual situation of having a boyfriend as well as a bevy of male friends, had taken upon herself the crucial responsibility of introducer, of matchmaker.
Well, for one, he certainly wasn’t going to find them in the studenty Irish pubs he frequented for their 5-euro pitchers.