The Spy That Loved Thee: Celebrating The Average Femme

creep creeping GIF-downsized_large

I had to see who she was –  ‘the (ex) wife.’
I dug around/cyber-snooped.
I found a photo.
A daughter, a husband and a wife…
She wasn’t what I expected.
She looked sour, bored.
He was in the photo smiling. Why wasn’t she?
I’d be all over that (him), smiling like an ass.
(And there are ridiculous old photos of teenage me, somewhere to prove that fact.)
I sort of expected she’d have at least some of what Silvia has got going on…
italian wife

How I see the quintessential ‘super-femme’ Italian woman. Silvia Colloca is fab and probably is a rock-star in the sack, cooks in stilettos, never gets bits of tomato stuck in her mesh top, PLUS she wrote a cook book (of course she did) and it’s probably amazing. Photo by by Chris Chen.

I was relieved he wasn’t married to size 6 Silvia…
or any of her far less functional, stiletto wearing
shallow arm-candy doppelgangers with wooden pussies.

Then it came to (shallow) me… The fact C liked (likes) mediocre me in the first place is actually a major coup for average-looking femmes everywhere. I was/am the un-official queen of average and I could have my Hugh-Jackman-calibre holy-grail-of-manhood – IF I wanted to.  But really, he shouldn’t have settled for a grumpier imitation.
Maybe the key to my success is that I was cool. I didn’t drool (at least not in front of him), I wasn’t possessive, I never fell over myself catering to him, and I made him wait days for an answer after he asked me out. After all, I was entertaining other offers.
Now,  despite the distance between us – he’s back, middle-aged and as grey as I am. I went from knowing nothing about his life to full disclosure. He calls me his ‘best friend,’ sends me casual pics of his lunch or where he’s hiking, and notably goofy selfies from bad angles (and he’s still hot) –  I could never get away with that. Really, I’m all about accepting my own mediocrity and good angles and anything less than 20 degrees below eye level makes me someone’s grandma.
See what I mean?
Be cool…


About Cakes McCain

Aka. 'Oliver Twist with Furniture and Diamonds' Ex-pat, lunatic, survivor - A Bridget Jones/Shirley Valentine hybrid, epically flawed, neurotic literary ‘dirty apple’ with a penchant for broad shoulders, epic orgasms, & lazy Sunday mornings eating cake in bed. Almost always broken-hearted, forever analysing everything to a bloody pulp and eternally obessing over 'Pasta for One - The Manuscript' a chick-lit memoir about living single in fabulous Italy, while trying not to throw yourself in front of a speeding bus.
This entry was posted in blog, bloggers, break up, break-up, dating, dating rejects, depression, Eating, European men, ex boyfriends, exes, food, friendship, humour, Italian food, Italian life, Italian media, Italian men, Italy, Italy living, Life in Italy, Living in Italy, losers, lost love, love, relationships, self examination, self help, self loathing, sex, Uncategorized, writers, x-pat, x-pats and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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