Most of ya’ll may know, at least by now, that the hubs is Italian. He’s not (no offense) like, a Jersey Italian, he’s like, my parents are from the old country, Italian. Now, I don’t know if ya’ll know many Italians, but they are unlike any others…in a very good way. I also can’t speak for any other Italian families, I know exactly two. My husband’s and my godparents. My godparents are Sicilian and Irish, it’s the most wonderful combination of a couple I’ve ever met. My godfather, “Uncle Arnold” is in this 90’s and he is having more fun right now than you are, trust me. And my godmother, “Aunt Jane” has such amazing cooking skills that if you know you are going to their house for dinner, you don’t eat for the whole entire day…and I think ya’ll can go ahead and assume that I don’t miss many meals, but for an Italian feast of such magnitude, you have to prep. And she’s the Irish part of the couple, fiery red hair and all, but having been married to a Sicilian for 70 years or so, she can make a mean meatball.
So, though I may not know a lot about Italians in general, I do know a lot about being married to one. It’s pretty funny for this girl who was brought up in what some would consider a “reserved” household. One where things like, “feelings” and “affection” weren’t usually discussed much less DISPLAYED! What are we, savages? So, as you might imagine, becoming an Italian’s wife has been an interesting journey. And, if you will, I’d love to share a few reasons why an off kilter belle and an Italian fella make a pretty awesome duo.
- I always tell people that the first time I really realized just HOW different the hubs and I grew up was the first time he had me and his parents over to this house for dinner. Now, this was back in the dark ages so he had planned on cooking us dinner and then we were to watch his favorite movie that just came out on DVD. So, dinner and a movie. Benign. Calm. Sure, no problem. Dinner went well, I’m thinking these folks are really lovely and funny and I think they kinda like me, I am on my best behavior and I had WAY less tattoos back then. So after dinner we retired to the living room for the DVD. The future hubs and his dad were enthralled, WWII movie, their favorite. His mother, on the other hand, could have cared less about the movie. She was asking me questions, and I, as a polite gal who was raised right, was trying to indulge her questions…but quietly, as not to disturb the future hubs and his dad. After several minutes of this, I could tell that future hubs was getting a little annoyed, and by that I mean, a lot annoyed at his mother. So, he turns to his mother, throws up his hands and says, “ma, would you just shut the fuck up already!” I. Could. Have. Died. My mother would have dropped dead right then and there. I mean, I have NEVER! But, before you go thinking that future hubs is a terrible person…let me tell you what happened next. And, it was VERY refreshing…future hubs, and his parents throw their hands up and start yelling in a language that I didn’t (and still don’t, I’m embarrassed to say) understand, and then they all starting laughing their asses off and it was hugs and kisses everywhere! No wonder Italians live so long…they never hold in their feeling! Us uptight southerners spend years just cramming our feelings deeper and deeper until we have the big one at 50. It was the MOST refreshing thing I’ve ever seen! I was hooked!! I feel in love with his parents that evening…and since they only live, like ¼ mile from us, I get to see them all the time (apparently that’s in the Italian family by-laws, I didn’t read the fine print).
- He will die on ANY hill. There is not much middle ground with the hubs. Pretty much ALL situations are life and death. Not five minutes ago, he came running in from the man cave, frantically waving the remote control in this hands (which were high above his head) and shouting, “Do you KNOW what happened to the remote control???” I, calmly look up from my laptop and say, “No, that’s not something I would know”. Don’t worry, he’s okay, crisis adverted, the channels can be changed and the proper soccer games are going to get recorded…and speaking of soccer…
- Obsession does not even begin to describe how the hubs feels about the game. When Italy won the world cup, he cried like a baby…I mean, WAY more than at our wedding, he just got a little misty then. But for Italy, he brought out the water works…and champagne…and calling his relatives in Italy to hear the fireworks and celebration in their village. I mean, seriously. When I pointed out that he seemed to be more affected by this win than our wedding after he screamed out, “This is the BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!”, that perhaps our wedding day was…his response, “but this will probably never happen again in my life time”. Um, ok, are you planning on having yet another wedding (I’m number 2)? Him, “well, you never know”. His man cave is a shrine to his team. While most people in our neighborhood have American flags and Palmetto flags hanging from their porches, we have two giant AC Milan flags flying. Soccer is on our televisions 24/7. The month gap in soccer this year (it’s usually about 3 months) is a welcome relief because while some people get season affective disorder in the winter time and become depressed, the hubs gets seasonal affective disorder during soccer’s hiatus.
- Romance, he knows a lot about it. The hubs really does treat me like a queen. Granted a queen that cooks and cleans and does laundry and keeps him and our dogs alive, but a queen non-the-less. Unfortunately for him, a little (read: a lot) of this is kinda lost on me as I am a bit, how do you say, logical. But, if ya’ll know me, you know that I love him to the moon in back, and his romantic gestures are part of that big love.
- Not just anything will do. The hubs is what we would like to call, particular. This leads to his inability to understand why anyone would like an alternative to what he finds to be the best restaurant/shop/TV show/band/concert/car/soccer team/wine/beer/vodka/political candidate…you get the idea. It kinda makes me giggle.
- He’s always right. Please refer to #2. It is almost impossible to win an argument with him. Couple that with the fact that almost nothing truly makes me mad…and our fights are just hilarious. I also have this strange inability to be mad at him, and he thinks the angrier I am, the more adorable I am, so fighting just really isn’t successful in this house.
- Spending that much time with your mamma as a kid, will raise your tolerance of women. I have bitches all over this house all the time. Two of my girlfriends have their own rooms at our house. We hold up in our pj’s on our deck for days on end. I have a tight knit group of girlfriends and we spend a lot of time together and the hubs is extremely tolerant of it. He loves it.
- He shows well. He is a charming little SOB. Everyone who meets him loves him instantly. Charming ass. They, however, don’t have to live with him. So while he may be the most charming fella you have met in a while, you don’t have to live with that charm 24/7…it’s a bit, how do you say, much. But that’s him…a bit much, but damnitt you just love the little guy.
- While he was spending all that time with his mamma, she taught him how to cook. And just in case you were wondering, she’d put Mario Batali to shame any day of the week. I’m very thankful she taught him some of her family recipes, the marked increase in weight since marrying an Italian, not so much. Did I mention he requires the use of every dish, plate, bowel, pot, pan, and utensil we own? But damn, it’s worth it.
- He doesn’t take himself too seriously. Sure he’s smug as hell and thinks he’s right all the time, but he’s in on the joke. Some people might call it a self actualized little man syndrome. He wears it well. He makes me laugh more than I make myself laugh, and that’s no easy feat. And at the end of the day, that is what makes this marriage work. Laughter. We can laugh with each other, at each other, and at ourselves with great abandon. Laughter is like cooking to me, it’s how I show love, and what better way to show my proud Italian that he is my soul mate and my person than to laugh at him every day.
Ciao Y’all 