“Uomini Redux”…or…”uhoh..I think I’m a Size Queen!”
Again, since a certain someone demands such information… I will update you on the men so far… I think it is only PG-13, so DO NOT read anymore if you do not want to know me on that level.
The list below would have been longer, but I’ve had a stomach bug all weekend, which really cramped (literally) my style. At least I think it’s a bug. It could also be the fact that my moderately “healthy American” diet switched to copious amounts of gelato, coffee, cheese, sausage, bread, and a variety of other “bad for you” things….
In order more or less:
1. Dennis – the first guy I met. He works in a factory but wants to work in a hospital. He has very pretty blue eyes and he tries very hard with his English. He’s wanted to meet again for two weeks now, but every night so far I’ve unfortunately have something else going on.
2. M – the polish guy whose name I promptly forgot because he was boring. Who, three weeks after he met me, chatted me up on MSN to tell me he was moving back to Poland. Um, ok, I haven’t talked to you since I met you…why would I care?
3. Gabriele – The next guy I met who I also promptly forgot, because he was kind of a snob, and not all that cute to be such a snob
3.5 Andrea – A member of “a couple that plays together” (there are MANY here in Turin for some reason…), but, Skype is used for more than just chatting kids… and Andrea apparently plays online without his partner knowing. In theory, I was supposed to have a threesome with them, but shockingly enough they backed out.
4. DJ Pippo – My first broken heart. He found me online, and asked for an English lesson. (my profiles say that I teach it privately) I, of course, assumed he meant “English Lesson”…(emphasis on the air quotes) since said lesson was taking place at 10 pm, but, he actually wanted me to teach him English. How I managed to teach him with his beautiful sienna brown eyes burning holes through me I do not know, but I somehow suffered through it. Afterwards, I discovered he is a crazy famous DJ here in Turin, and Deejays one of the biggest gay nights here, which he invited me to (see next post).
4. Pazzo39 – My first sexual encounter, mostly because I was crazy horned up thanks to DJ Pippone I have no idea what his name is, because the extent of our discussion basically was him saying “come over and use all my holes.” So I did. Luckily I found that Italian asses are just as fabulous outside of their tightly fitting designer jeans as they are perfectly cupped inside them.
3.75 M3 – Ok, so I may have lied. Many posts ago I was talking about how I was a prude and I turned down a sex offer. Well….after I wrote that post, I changed my mind and met him anyway. In hindsight, this was clearly not the best choice I’ve made thus far, because “straight” men are rarely a good lay. I have no idea what his name was, only that he was married, the sex was in a hotel by the train station, and it was VERY forgettable. Plus, he expected me to pay for half the hotel room. I don’t think so dirty cheater!
5. Marco – I met him late at a bar also, under the guise of him learning English and me learning Italian. Once again, he was being serious, and was bordering on making the mistake that M2 above made, but this time I made it clear that I’m not going to pronounce something 12 times again. I did not think the “teaching date” went all that great, but he has emailed me three more times and speaks in the future tense, so I guess this means he likes me in some way. Why else would you invite someone to a Piemontese food festival that is more than a month away, unless you had some vested interest in the person? And, repeatedly affirm our lesson three days away? It’s odd, but I’ll keep you posted.
5.5 Kouros (whose actual name I have also forgotten for the reason below) – Once you read the Maurizio post below, you will understand the frustration with this guy. So, I was sitting at home and quite annoyed that I had yet to go out to a gay bar or disco yet, so I made it my status on MSN messenger, “Voglio andare a Centralino!” Which means “I want to go to Centralino.”
Kouros, a Sicilian who speaks very little English and who has only been to Centralino once before, takes up the call, picks me up in his car, and away we go. SO. Perhaps it is because he is Sicilian, perhaps he is very nervous, perhaps it is his lack of English, I don’t know. But really, it was like I was on a date with someone who was 55. I didn’t appreciate the gruffness, the stressing out about the lack of a nearby bancomat, a general lack of smiling, and a near constant whiteboy shuffle (more on that later) as a form of dancing for 4 hours, and then there was the unfortunate tongue-kissing action. I mean, after all that, I feel like I deserved the handjob I got in the car while parked in front of my apartment. I worked really hard for it… And now, he won’t stop emailing me. But, I can’t work up the nerve to tell him his penis is just too small…..
6. Maurizio (“Mauri”) – Alas, another who broke my heart figuratively speaking. In the space of 4 hours, he had emailed me online, MSN’d me, and set up a time to meet at Queever (Queer Disco Fever), which is an aperitivo, show, and dancing for 12euro, and more or less aimed at older people than those that go to Centralino. [If you’re bored, look closely at the photos from October 4, I’m nearly always in the front of the stage with a black shirt, dancing with the cute boy in a lightcolored shirt..] And here I am in a group shot…looking all kinds of crazy…..
Here are some of the issues with Mauri:
A) Yes, much like everyone else I’ve met, I have milked the American thing for all it’s worth, but I find that once we are done talking about America and how fabulous it is and how much we hate Bush and fucking love Obama (I can’t break their little hearts and tell them the truth about the big O yet…), and “yes, Italian food is the best food in the world,” I struggle to find other topics to talk about.
B) Maurizio is BY FAR the most “classically” attractive Italian I have met in person so far. Ridiculous milk chocolate eyes, dark wavy hair, stubble, button down shirt open halfway….. Couple these with the fact that Italians have absolutely no comfort zone around them, and you have me staring into his brown eyes with lips literally 3 inches away from mine. It’s enough to drive an American insane, because in our country, once someone’s lips are that far from yours, you’re golden. Here, they are just chatting closer so you can hear them better.
C) There is entirely too much touching compared to America, Handholding on the way to the dance floor, grazing ones lips against the other person’s ear, touching their back as they introduce you to their friends. Those who know me can well imagine that this was driving me utterly bonkers, since I haven’t held someones hand since grade school.
D) So, after ALL this, and dancing, and drinking, and driving me home…. I KNOW I did not get this text: “I mean what i have said.tonight u have meet a new friend 🙂 see u soon” Can’t you at least be an American gay and sleep with me before saying you just want to be friends?
E) Once I got over being crushed completely, I did get invited to a dinner party to his house on Thursday. So I can’t really complain.
Again, there are a few that I’ve forgotten I’m sure, but I’m off to teach English to Francesc the Spaniard. Ciao!