which team any man is really playing for. Things like hugging and kissing each other, staring at themselves in mirrors for long periods of time, and sipping on pink “girly” drinks are in no way indications of any man’s sexual preference.
EXTRA CREDIT
Keep your “man” in check every once in a while with one of these reminders:
VOGLIO UN UOMO CON LE PALLE.
“I like my men with balls.”
E’ PER QUESTO CHE HO UNA RAGAZZA
“That’s what I have girlfriends for.”
SÌ, QUELLA GONNA TI FA IL CULONE
“Yes, your butt does look big in that skirt.”
In the beginning, you didn’t really mind “taking care” of your Italian boyfriend. Little things—like bringing him five Peronis during extra time in a futbol match—didn’t bother you one bit. Then you somehow got stuck doing his laundry when his not-so-white tighty-whiteys began creeping their way into your hamper. But now that he’s got you ironing his work clothes, it’s not just his shirts that are feeling heated. To make matters worse, he just casually informed you that his mother does a better job with the iron than you. Oh no he didn’t!
What to do:
Leave the iron on top of the shirt just until it burns a nice crisp hole in the chest (but not long enough to actually start a fire). You need to show that mamma’s boy just how skilled you really are with hot tools. Then tell him. . .
What to say:
VAFFANCULO A TE—E A TUA MADRE!
“Go f**ck yourself—and your mother!”
It’s appropriate to say this because. . .
They both deserve to be cursed since you’re not sure who is the guiltier of the two. While he’s an ingrate, his mother is probably the reason why. Furthermore, insulting an Italian man’s mamma is comparable to vandalizing his Vespa. If you’re looking for a way to hit your “man” where it hurts, always aim for Mommy.
In the know:
More adult males live in their parents’ home in Italy than in any other industrialized country. In fact, an international women’s group called Stop Mothering Men (SMM) was organized with the specific purpose of forcing men to finally grow up!
EXTRA CREDIT
The next time your boyfriend compares you to his mother, you may want to counter with:
COSA PENSEREBBE MAMMINA?
“But what would Mommy think?”
TUA MADRE È UNA PUTTANA.
“Your mother’s a whore.”
FATTI STIRARE QUESTO!
“Have your mother iron this!”
You’re late to meet some friends at a café, and you just can’t figure out which piazza you’re standing in (why do they all have to look the same, anyway?). While unfolding your unwieldy street map, you accidentally bump into a pervert sitting on some steps ogling a group of teenage girls by the fountain. And so the gesticulation war begins. . .after muttering something you’re pretty sure wasn’t very nice, he rolls his eyes at you in disgust. You shrug your shoulders in apology. He shakes his head. You thumb your nose. He flicks you the bird. And you blank. The only remaining option you can think of is to moon him—and that definitely ain’t happening after all of yesterday’s zeppoles! You really want to be the bigger person, because deep down you know who you’re dealing with here—some lonely loser who should be spending his time in anger management classes, not sitting in public places being pervy. But you can’t help yourself. Your friends will just have to wait.
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