In July of 1989, M. told me she was going to “leave this Italian guy” who had been allegedly waiting for her to come back. I instantly began to feel some instant rage, based on threat. According to European women, they are reputedly the best lovers; she thought that Italian men treated their women better than anyone else, and I just disliked the competition let alone the racism inherent in such a claim.
As soon as the woman’s back is turned, the Italian man will be the first to make lewd gestures at another woman while screaming out loud and wolf-whistling. M. argued the point that she felt this was healthier; that American men standing about, just staring, was creepy.