|
|
Article: I married a foreigner.
- Article from:
- Redbook
- Article date:
- June 1, 1996
- Author:
CopyrightCOPYRIGHT 1996 Hearst Communications, reprinted with permission of Hearst. This material is published under license from the publisher through the Gale Group, Farmington Hills, Michigan. All inquiries regarding rights should be directed to the Gale Group. (Hide copyright information)
|
I've always been attracted to men with accents. French, Italian, English. Even a midwestern twang has its charms for me.
So it didn't surprise anyone when I married a foreigner. I really wanted to marry an Italian - a young Marcello Mastroianni in particular - and abandon my American identity for la dolce vita. I had an image of myself, in slanty sunglasses, a shawl tossed over one shoulder, sipping espresso in the Piazza Navona. I ended up with an Argentine. I didn't put much thought into it. The lure of the exotic, the Prospect of visiting in-laws in Buenos Aires rather than Pittsburgh, conquered any reservations.
The obvious appeal of marrying a foreigner ...