The Italian...

It was 10am on a Monday and I was engaged in a serious conversation with Josh about the idiots managing LBJ when my BBM (Blackberry Messenger) started chiming so frequently it sounded like it was broken.  He asked me who was blowing me up and I told him "oh it's an Italian."  Josh asked me how I knew and I said "I just do."  Twelve more chimes and I decided to check out what was going on.  Turns out I was being invited to the Greek Isles, Vienna, Prague, Thailand, Japan, or beaches I had to google.  All expenses paid for of course and a perfect gentleman to accompany me.  This is what it is like to be friends with a persistent Italian who believes you are the most amazing thing since the invention of the Bellini.  Luckily this has not been my first encounter with Italian men, or my last.

I first experienced Italian men when I was in Italy with Megan the summer of 2001.  Italian men can be summed up in one word:  Intense.  Anywhere we walked it was "Ciao Bella" or "venga con me, bellisima" and grabbing then kissing of the hands commenced.  I knew enough of Spanish to translate what those two phrases meant and I was irritated, annoyed, and a bit freaked.  They even behaved this way at the Vatican.  Holy freak out!  As a girl who is very conservative when it comes to affection (the rest of my family does not have this problem which I believe exacerbated my issues) I was in a state of annoyance and irritation at least once a day.  We found ourselves running away when we walked down the main piazza, couldn't stand in lines more than 2minutes, and were bombarded if we were at an outdoor restaurant.  I think Megan was flattered and enamored by all the accented attention but I was getting headaches from all my eye rolling and grimacing.  I spoke with several people about my wanting to throat punch people who infiltrated my personal bubble but none gave as good of advice as the Chef at our hostel.  The Chef taught us to use the word "basta", which literally translates to "enough" but when said with force it means business.  After a few more lessons from Chef we learned to carry ourselves in a way that didn't attract attention which just meant staring down and looking aggressively into the eyes of these men before they could open their mouths.  As I re-read through my journal while writing this I found the day he taught us this phrase.  After all my ranting about the Pantheon, Catacombs, and Vatican this is what I wrote about my new found powerful word "I finally got to use the "basta" word that our Chef told us about.  I think it literally means fuck off because these guys were upset and completely freaked out.  Doubtful that they will be shouting dirty Italian comments tomorrow.  I might need to use this new found yelling at jerks when I get back to the states." 

 

Cut to 2007 when I was at a "Meet New People" party and I was approached in very Italian fashion by a guy I'll call FF.  Picture an Italian accent attached to a 6'0 guy with an athletic body, the attire of casual James Bond, and the hair of Robert Pattinson.  Then picture him telling you that you look very exotic and telling you he would like to "kissa your face."  I'm sure my reaction was not like anything you're imagining because I laughed.  I was dating someone at the time which allowed me to use the excuse that I was taken and could not be kissed.  I tried to walk away.  He laughed and said he hoped I was dating a "real man."  Who is this guy?  We ended up talking and he convinced me that I was not married and could give out a phone number to go to brunch.  My response, "Absolutely not."  As our group was departing for the next location he grabbed my hand and as he kissed it then he slyly put his card into my hand.  "For when you get the courage...." and he winked.  I was more irritated than anything.  Hello?!  Did he not gather from our 30min conversation that I have iron clad resolve!  I shoved the card into my clutch and walked off to catch up with my friends.  A year later I found myself suddenly single.

 

As I was getting dressed to go out I grabbed the long forgotten clutch.  That night while searching around for a lip gloss I found the card.  I dismissed the card but it caused an itch in my dialing finger.  It was a year and some months later but I decided to call him.  As soon as I told him "It's Clara fro..." he interrupted and said "Ahhhh Ciao Bella Clara from the party last year.  I knew you would call!  It took you forever che bella.  When are we going on a date?"  I hardly got a word in edgewise but he decided we were going for brunch.  He is an international consultant and at the time he was overseas but decided to make a trip back to take me to brunch, plus he had to do his expenses anyway.  The first of traveling no big deals from him.  He took me to a great little brunch spot and we spent 3hrs talking about his journey to the US, my dreams, my plans, his travels, where I should travel, and finally business school.  The tide turned in his favor when he said "I will help you get into business school in any way possible.  I am on your team!" 

 

Side Note:  That phrase got me because 1.  I love team activities and I'm super competitive and 2.  Because my Dad Gary always referred to our family as a team.  Everything was an individual effort that helped the team.  So that's where my love of "teams" comes from.

 

He left back to the U.A.E. a few days later for a business deal and we set a 2nd date upon his return.  Then a few weeks later my plans to meet back up with him were derailed when the ex-boyfriend who broke my heart came back.  As you have probably gathered from this blog I am a sucker for 2nd chances so I said yes to the ex and let FF and White Sox guy in on the news.  They were not excited but appreciated my honesty and respected my decision.  As soon as I got off the phone with FF he sent me a message "Call me when you are single again."  Who does this guy think he is?!  I was so upset with his comment that I deleted his number.

 

In the summer of 2009 I found myself single again and at the same Meet New People Party that Billie had hosted in 2007.  And guess who was there?  We caught up and Andrea my date informed him I was single.  We had a great time and set a date for the following week since he would be in Chicago for a few weeks.  I had a fantastic time with him.  We went to many of my current favorite restaurants and just had a good time.  My most memorable date was at Avec where they have shared tables.  As we were meeting the groups around us FF introduces me as a very famous restaurant critic.  Before we knew it I was giving advice on restaurants and what to order.  The people around us ended up ordering the exact same items we chose.  I felt a bit bad but only until the food came.  Still makes my mouth water just thinking about the peaches and prosciutto.  Most of our dates had a bit of fun to them, and I honestly had no clue what FF was going to do at our next meal.  It made it fun and still does.  He's quite the character and like myself he loves to meet new people.  After about two weeks of dating I was having a great time but there was just something missing.  When we hung out there was a part of me that was withdrawn, I could feel myself not really letting down that one last drawbridge so he could cross over to boyfriend territory.  The more I withdrew the more he advanced and the intensity was revealed.  He wanted to take me to Dubai, he wanted to have 2 different wedding receptions, and he wanted to buy me everything.  Immediately I felt exactly what every man probably feels when a girl reveals her 5,10, and 20yr plans for their life together.  I felt suffocated even though all he was doing was telling me things that every girl (supposedly) wants to hear.  I had gotten my wish.  An intelligent, handsome, well dressed, chivalrous man, who wants to take me all over the world and buy me houses and jewelry and I didn't want it.  I guess not all girls can be gold diggers.  Damn it! 




He had to leave back to Dubai and I felt a sense of sadness and relief all at once.  There would be space and I was glad, but my friend was leaving.  I told him about my trip in October to visit my friend Katie in Madrid and he flew more than 36hrs round trip to join us for 24hrs in Mallorca and he even paid for our hotel rooms.  Although Katie and I were asked which one of us was Mrs. FF when we checked in.  It was a great time until he was upset I did not want to spend all my time with him.  That evening I made friends with some people at the bar and stayed late chatting it up and drinking wine.  Even though I had informed him it was a Katie & Clara trip prior to him coming it wasn't good enough.  I ended up getting irritated that I couldn't be free to do what I wanted and also that I was upsetting him.  The trip ended on a weird note and he went back to Dubai and we went back to Madrid.




After he left Katie helped me realize that it was OK that I didn't return the intense feelings he felt for me.  However, I didn't want to tell him that because I was afraid of losing our friendship but I couldn't keep pretending his verbal displays for affection were meant for the lady I was sitting next to.  When people say lovey dovey things to me it is like my vision is hovering over me and I'm watching myself smile and squirm like a 5yr old given a hug by their grandpa who smells like werther's originals.  Since I figured it would probably be awkward if he asked me to marry him and I happened to respond by asking if we could "talk about it later" I told him how I felt.  I said to him that he was a great friend and we would probably be friends for life but marrying me was not going to happen.  He did not speak to me for a month.  This is horrible to say but I hardly noticed which made me realize my decision was correct.  When he did contact me again we were able to pick up where we left off.  Literally.  He still has our weddings in Texas & Italy planned out.  I'm not sure if the History Channel is correct on how the Roman Empire became so large.  I have a feeling the Romans just kept asking other regions to join until they eventually gave in and decided joining the Romans would not be as bad as getting asked again the following day if they would date join them.

Lesson Learned:  It's safe to say that Italians never give up.