Primo Appuntamento – First Dates in Italy

Stately as a general, the old man strides into the restaurant. Unsolicited, he presents his entire resume to the rushed maître. "I've traveled the world," he says solemnly, keeping his face straight. The matre should not think that he is trying to impress him, no, that is something for the lesser gods. He doesn't need that. "I know good manners and have won a lot of women with it," he continues. "And now I'm ready for another conquest."

I'm watching an episode of the Italian version of the worldwide popular program First Dates (In italian First date mentioned) and get lucky: the meeting I see beats everything that I have been able to see in many Dutch and English episodes.

It's just unbelievable: 

The matre nods politely at the old man's confidence. 
'I speak six languages,' continues our globetrotter. 'Italian of course and French, English, Spanish, er…, Portuguese and er… what's the sixth again? uh…'
'What is your age, if I may ask?' the matre interrupts and thus saves the man from his predicament. 
"Eighty-two," he replies, rising a little straighter. 'Didn't think so, huh?'
'No, sir, you still look perfect. Do you want to follow me? Your date is already at the table.'
"Oh, aha, is she a beautiful woman?"
'You can judge that for yourself, sir. Look, here she is.'

A sort of bird of paradise sits at the table: the plump, elderly woman has wild hair dyed bright red and a purple-blue dress with bare arms and a feather collar as if she were Sarah Bernhardt. An grand lady. At the introduction she confessed that she writes poems. With a questioning look she looks at the meticulously groomed and dressed gentleman who suddenly appears at her table. 

The man does not say a word, does not introduce himself and sits down without greeting his table companion. He is clearly scared. There is a deafening silence that seems to last an eternity. The man stares into infinity, while the woman gives him an occasional furtive glance, rummaging aimlessly in her handbag.

After a while she dares the perilous leap and asks the man what his name is.
"Benito," the man says curtly without looking at the woman. The obvious counter question remains unanswered. Silence. 
'My name is Patrizia,' the woman then declares wearily, of her own accord. No reaction.

The few follow-up questions that Patrizia still tries are only one-syllable answers. The irritation takes over Patrizia's fleshy face.
'You have to take the initiative yourself, you know, otherwise it won't work. Don't you have any questions for me?' she bursts out.
The man gives her a haughty look and declares that he cannot come up with questions out of thin air. 
"But aren't you interested in me?" a stunned Patrizia now wants to know.
"No," is the blunt reply.
'What did you expect, then, that there would be a beautiful young woman sitting at the table?' 
'Yes, I don't like older women.'
'But what are you actually imagining? You are an old man yourself!' Patrizia is now completely out of his mind and refuses further conversation with this jerk. Grumbling, she stares straight ahead with eyes that shoot fire.

Suddenly the man stands up and walks away without apologies. 
"What's he going to do?" muttered Patrizia. 'To the toilet?'
But no, we see Benito talking to the matre a little later in the background. Fortunately, his microphone is on and we hear that he complains about the organization and about his company.

'You have me in front of a witch, put a witch! Come on permette! How dare you!'
The matre gently tries to force Benito to behave more politely and in the end Benito returns to his cursed table, where he again sinks into silence. Then it's Patrizia's turn to get up and walk away.
"Where is she going?" asks a surprised Benito, indignant at the abandonment of himself. But he's actually relieved that she's gone for a while. "She's not my type," he confesses soberly. "All those wrinkles!"

Patrizia has gone to the toilet, not out of physical need but to write a note to Benito. When she's done, she fixes her hair for a while and then proudly leaves the restaurant, like a battleship at full strength. She leaves the note with the matre who delivers it neatly to Benito: 

“Dear Sir, perhaps you do not know that it is polite to converse in the company of a lady. But it is not too late even for you to learn it.”

Benito is not impressed: 'She just walks away, unbelievable.'

Oh Benito, you may speak five (or six?) languages, but you really haven't mastered that one important one: the language of love.

In the credits, Patrizia says she plans to capture this evening's experience in a short story. While waiting for that horror story, you can already watch a snippet of the episode here: 

Fortunately, the other dates in this episode go much better, and one of them develops into a true, heart-melting romance. All encounters are unfortunately talked together by a penetratingly present and completely unnecessary vain character who debits all clichés, making the episode unnecessarily long.

And at the bar they only serve the spumante of the program sponsor or, if necessary, a soft drink. No Pornstar Martinis in Italy. The country's wise, the country's honor!

🇮🇹Reading tip: Want to read more fun stories about life in Italy? You can find it in the three parts 'Italiaanse Status' by Stef Smulders, available at bol.com.