Time for a catch-up with the men.
Thanks to the cold I mentioned before, I missed an invitation to go to Centralino with Maurizio (catch up, here and here). Lo and behold, I get a text on Sunday inviting me to meet him at Queever! [side note, I think when the photographer remembers your name at a bar, it’s time to change up your routine]
First of all, thank goodness Italians could care less about Halloween. I enjoyed the lack of stress involved in going out when a fabulous costume and various other details aren’t needed at all! So I arrived at 9:30 PM and looked around for Mauri, couldn’t find him, and decided to stand near a banquette to watch the show. And who should grab me and hug me from behind in a distinctly non-we’re-just-friends-way, but Maurizio! As it turns out, he was there alone, without the entourage of his usual friends (who are very nice…but in my way…) and I had him all to myself. In short, once again there was lots of talking real close, hands on backs, etc, and at one point I even got a “you’re so cute!” when I attempted to pronounce an Italian word.
I’m not under any sort of delusion that this could ever be more, but that doesn’t mean I won’t milk it for all it’s worth. I maintained my distance on the dancefloor (where, thankfully, we both excel, I might add…), and most of the time even avoided eye contact. I don’t give away my machinations for free you know…. but he also took my carefully planned shopping excursion bait.
“Oh, it’s so cold. I simply don’t know where to buy a good jacket….if only there was an oh-so-fashionable Italian to help shop for one….”
“Why yes, of course you can teach me ALL about Italian style when you take me shopping on Saturday!”
In conclusion, he’s a bunch of fun, and when he decides that I’m fabulous and he should be making out with me at all times…I suppose I’ll be around to let him…
HAHA….no, of course I’m not seeing the Russian I had bathroom sex with again…just who do you think I am?
I only mention Andrea (the one with a boyfriend, but whom I’ve seen naked multiple times (thank you technology!)) because he sent me a message on Facebook telling me that he saw me at Queever and next time he’s going to come up and kiss me…. Why are you going to tease me like that? Rude…and hot…
I felt bad about cancelling plans with him on Monday, so on Tuesday, I couldn’t really think of an excuse not to go out with him again. You can only have a cold for so long really…
To be honest, I just wasn’t in the mood to get some (I know, right!)… Some bad (and good) things are happening in Atlanta on a variety of fronts, and I can’t be there to help out or experience them. Normally, I don’t get homesick, but being reminded that overall, this trip is a very selfish undertaking tied to noone’s welfare but my own packs a punch. Plus, I have more students than I’ve ever had, and making lesson plans takes a fair amount time each day….That being said, I shrugged it off, vowed to get a few cocktails in me, and then hit the showers…
I met him at his place, where I conveniently left my bag, or rather Michele conveniently suggested I leave it there. [So there was no chance I was getting out of doin’ it. Even my carefully subtle “I’m tired..I’m still sick…my friend died…” remarks yielded no results. Michele was a man on a mission] Then we went to have drinks. One of which was a crazy delicious one made with muddled oranges, vodka, and cinnamon sugar! Then we walked around and looked at a few of the Luci d’Artista (one of which is the new blog header..also, see the pics below) and chatted about art. When we arrived back to his place, he gave me a sweater that was too small for him because I looked cold when we were walking around…it was very sweet…I guess he deserves a blowjob.
Over the course of the evening, he basically invited me to go with him to Artissima (an art sale), The Torino Film Festival, Genova, and Venice. This is rather rare for me. I’m not use to people, Italy or America, speaking in the future tense other than what time they have to go to work in the morning. Ew. What is this strange emotion I’m feeling…. guilt? Is it wrong to exchange a little booty for a basically free tour guide to various and sundry Italian experiences?