Today I received a very strange compliment-come-insult. A classic Complisult if you will.
We were sitting at a rather charming enoteca, in some trendy district of Rome, when a waiter asked if there was anything I didn't eat, in advance of preparing a selection of appetisers.
An Italian man at our table, who I had known for all of three minutes quickly responded, ‘dont worry, she eats everything. I can see it in her eyes’, with a sage wink.
I’m sure he meant this as a charming throwaway comment, even though in the UK such a statement would warrant, as my nan would say, ‘a sharp look and a good telling off’. He’d probably be bowled over by how much I have pondered over these words, more so that I would bother to write a whole blog post about it.
But, these are exactly the sort of nonsensical comments I often hear purred from the mouths of Italian men. Things that sound very romantic on the ear, but make very little sense.
What the hell are my eyes saying, that my mouth cant? Have since been riddled with self consciousness. Do I have greedy looking eyes? Were they currently conveying some sort of dynamic desperation? Do they look hungry? Are my pupils telling people I haven't checked my credit card statement in a very long time?
Imagined self wandering around Italy with eyeballs like Roger Rabbit, which pop out in cartoon like fashion at every cured meat counter we find and every good looking man we encounter.
May as well pack in this whole learning Italian business all together, if my eyes are so marvellously communicative.