eat.play.LOVE

I ate.

I played.

And boy did I LOVE.

I am a sucker for love, I really am.  A complete cynic about it because some of the not-so-great situations I ALLOWED myself to be in but still completely and utterly hopeful.  Go figure I would take risks in the most romantic country in the world.

I sometimes confuse "love" and "lust".  I swear, when it is THAT good, my vagina and heart don't know the damn difference.  Or maybe it's because they aren't that different.  At any rate, for the first...I dunno...5 months, I allowed myself to "love" a man that no one would have EVER expected, including myself.  

#1 - the 'nduja man

            I don't know exactly how "we" happened...no, wait...yes I do.  But I don't know how or why it continued.   Oh wait, I know that too..

            The first night we went home together, it was like he knew exactly all the things I wanted and everything my body needed.   In a snap of a finger while his mouth was still on mine, I found myself suddenly standing in the middle of his living room in my birthday suit.  He turned me around, pulled my hair, picked me up, choked me, bent me over and when round #1 was done, he took me to the patio room.  First we, took a break and smoked a joint (swoon) then, would you believe it...got right back to it.  Me on top, reverse cowgirl, and I am sure knees were involved at some point.  We exhausted almost every room in the place in one night.  Forza Italia! I remember when I finally got home the next morning to my incredibly hung over best friend....she asked me how my night went and all I could do is lean against the doorway and say, "It was just like American sex, but better".  I don't even know what that was supposed to mean...but I do know I wasn't expecting what I got.  And believe me when I say I was PLEASANTLY surprised. I must say, he was a man of many firsts for me.  My (sex) life continued with (only) him for the next few months and somewhere along the way my ass done fell in love with this bad attitude having, bi-polar-can't make up his mind having, softer side hiding, love the way he "loves" me, man.  With different guys trying to see me, date me or sex me...all I wanted was him.  Might have been perfectly happy with all his crazy, as long as kept doing what he was doing, to me.  Progressively, our late night hook ups turned into something else...not that we EVER got serious but lines turned grey. I found myself in a situation where he was allowed to do whatever, and possibly WHOever, he wanted but I was not entitled the same luxury.  Me simply speaking to a guy would result in an accusation of some sort.  Ugh.  We finally decided that what we had was not a good idea.  For either of us.  But that didn't stop us from seeing each other a few more times.  There's something about wanting what you can't have that makes you want it even more, huh?

          I can't say that the sex alone made me fall head over heels cos that can't be true.  We went a couple months without a hint of feelings.  I understood our unspoken agreement and AGREED with it.  Not only did I agree with it, I was all for it.  I never asked for more...NEVER.  I never assumed that we were more...not at first, at least.  It started when he first kissed me in front of everyone.  I was fine with people ASSUMING that we were hooking up but never asking, never telling.  But when he did that in front of friends, that caught me off guard.  Ok, he's drunk I thought...we can chalk it up to that.  But then it happened again...and again...and again.  The public displays of affection, me sleeping in while he went to work then dropping off the keys, the whispered "i love yous", the "I want yous", the invitations to places together...all that.  What a load of shit.  Everyone told me of what a bad idea he was...it's especially funny when you hear it from his closest friends.  But like I always do, I did what I wanted.  In hindsight, they were right...all of them, about it all.  But I don't regret a thing...

       The last 4 months I spent it with my, then, boyfriend.  Now opposite from Mr. 'nduja Man, everyone LOVED him and wanted us to be together.  So did I....so did I...

#2 - my Semi Dolce

      Little did I know, he was not always going to be this knight in shining armor.  

Boy did he fool me.  

         We met months before we actually dated... at a birthday party where my best and I were befriended by him and his friends.  From that night forward, we all spent quite a bit of time all together.  Mostly dinners at alternating homes and drinks out.  I remember the second time we hung out with them I turned to my best and said, "Watch, I am going to date him".  Since I was in the middle of a "situation-ship" with Mr. 'nduja, I kept at bay for months and played a friend role.

          And out of the blue one night, everything changed.  It was a typical dinner with probably too much wine and Willie Wonka, the movie, to follow after dinner.  To spare you the boring details of how it happened...I'll just tell you.  He kissed me.  And that was it.  Kisses.  How nice.  We didn't end up seeing each other again for maybe a week.  Or at least it felt that way.  I remember being so giddy about that kiss.  About how I completely caught off guard because it was NEVER like that with us.  And all of a sudden, here he is, making his move. I remember playing the situation over and over in my head, reliving each kiss, each move, each word.  When we finally saw each other again, it was just us two....going for aperitivo at Kitsch.  Against all of my beliefs in PDA, we sat outside watching a live band and making out occasionally while holding hands.  SMH.  So I guess we skipped the whole dating thing  and went right into being officially together.  Unlike #1, I took my time with this one.  I was in no rush and he never pressured me.  If a man can wait weeks after sharing a bed together, he's good in my book.

        The time we were together was like a fairly tale.  I felt I was literally getting swept off my feet.  Like I was the main character in some overly cheesy chic flick. It felt so natural and comfortable, like I had been doing this with him for years.  He was intuitive, a great communicator and made me laugh EVERY DAY.  I felt like I was able to finally exhale.  I never really got home sick until the holidays came around.  Gosh, he did everything he could to make sure I was as happy as possible during this time.  Stayed up watching American football with me, going home early to watch the Giants, keeping us busy with traveling and seeing different things...anything he could think of.  I even went home with him for Christmas.  We talked as if there was no end to us.  It was unfathomable that we would be separated.  Except there was one minor detail that we choose to ignore until the very end...I AM American and he IS Italian.  And I'm no expert but I do believe to make something work, you guys should live in the same country at the very least.  I had no choice but to come home but was planning on coming back after 3 months.  So we found ourselves at the airport in Rome saying "ci vediamo a presto" I will see you soon.  I was hoping that was the truth.  It fell apart before we could even try.  Long distance is hard, but even more so when only one person is trying.  I didn't know this man I was now in a relationship with, he was not the same man I met, dated and fell in love with in Italy.  It's hard not to feel resentment, even as I type this, but things fall apart so better things can come together, right?

#3, 4, 5 and 6 - my Forever Love(s)

        Seems like I came up empty handed, huh?  Sure, I fell in lust and then I fell in love and both tanked but what I left with, I wouldn't change for the world. I wish I can write each story of how I fell in love with each of these people, but that would make for a really long blog.

           These people are the reason why I can't wait to go back.  The ones who helped me acclimate, the ones who listened when I needed to talk, drank when I needed to drink, danced with me, ate with me, cooked with me and just let me be me.  The ones who tried to talk me out of yet, another one of my "great" ideas and the same ones who supported me with some hard decisions.

To my Gothic Girl, thanks for all the dinners, all the talks, the laughs and support.  I'll get you

to visit me one day and can't wait to see your home town down south.  

To my boys of via Guelfa, formerly via Ghibellina, thanks for the grill outs, hookah/movie nights, slumber parties and not making me pay for the two beds I broke.  

Ti voglio bene per sempre e ci vediamo a presto.  I promise.