Whenever I make a big decision I always do my research.
I use Internet search engines, read books, ask questions, and try to go directly to the source.
The same thing would have happened if it was white guys came in.
He was in Rome for a few months on a very specific mission: to meet and eventually marry a nice Italian girl.
And while I kept most of my Facebook friends entertained with a couple statuses here and there with some of these pathetic one-liners, I realized I had compiled enough to not only make an article, but also remind myself that life as a single woman in 2016 is more or less, the worst.
Now because I try to keep this place semi-PG, semi-my-mother-is-Nigerian-and-doesn’t-think-I’ll-date-until-I’m-married, and semi-one-day-my-future-husband-might-see-this, that means that I can’t include the more obscene, graphic, and detailed commentary I’ve been on the receiving end of. ” To make matters worse, it’s no secret Italian men, and Europeans in general, are rumored to have a fetish with black women, so navigating the dating scene is basically like drawing a map to Mars. I constantly have to ask myself, “ love is love, and if it were easy to find, all my 20-something year old friends back in America would be married by now.
In the article, I suggest that in the Italian dating arena, we poor American men are severely handicapped—even totally disqualified—by our post-feminism sensitivities and political-correctness. We open doors, engage in smart conversation, avoid sexual innuendo, and never assume that an invitation for dinner or a drink is any more than just that.
What’s worse, we don’t even realize what we’re doing wrong. Silly us, we thought that our All-American charm and goodwill leftover from World War II would instantly ingratiate us with those belle ragazze.