There is something inherently sensual about Italians, no matter their age. It's the "bella figura" or looking good...the drama of being seen. Age doesn't matter. Be they young and handsome, older and bald...they expect you to watch them.
Italian men will make direct eye contact. If you insist on being a tourist, you'll miss the spontaneous stage play that presents itself on every sidewalk and piazza. My first flirting encounter was in a taxi in Rome. While waiting in line for a ride, his eyes met mine and held.
He was half my age but took flirting to a new level. He assisted me into the cab, holding my arm a bit too long. "Vatican," I gasped, unable to look away. "Letta me taka you to the hills of Rome and show you what love is all about," he said. His deep brown eyes boring into mine. "I'm sorry. I'm meeting friends," still holding eye contact. I was certain he gave that invitation to many women, hoping one day he would get lucky. When we arrived at the Vatican, he opened the door for me, pressed his thumb to the pulse point on my neck, and murmured, "Twelve euro." With a ragged breath, I fished out a twenty euro note and told him to keep the change. I floated through the Etrucan part of the museum before I faced reality. If you look away, all will be well. If you maintain eye contact...be prepared.