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Lil Johnny should’ve played hard to get.

October 28, 2010

So Amy and I decided the men in Rome totally win. Holy hotness. I know that you were waiting for that…

Unfortunately, there haven’t been any real run-ins with any Romans (why does that sound weird). Well. Aside from Amy’s Perfect Man that we met this morning on the way to the Coliseum (wow it took me way too long to figure out how to spell that). Seriously. He would be perfect. Aside from the fact that he is studying to be a priest and will return to Iowa. Where he is from.

Bummer, Amy.

Anyways. We have, actually, had a few run-ins with Italian men. In my case, it’s made something about me rather obvious (whereas, in Amy’s case, it just proved she would indeed break into that hotel room…).

Basically. If I am interested in you, I know fairly quickly. And so do you. Regardless of whether or not you’re interested in me, I think you know how I feel. Pretty much right away.

And, in this case, by “interested in you” I mean… I would like to have some sex. You know. Now.

Once I have decided this, I really don’t need any further information. We don’t need to have conversation like normal people. In fact, I’ve definitely met people I wish would have kept their mouths shut and avoided conversation. So. In some instances, further information is not helpful. Can we just move on to the sex?

Now. If I am interested in dating you, then I do want to have some conversation. That’s different. I can want to fuck you and not really care (yet) about dating you. Doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t want to date you later, I just know I want to have some sex. With you. And I want it, um oh yeah, now.

The cute Italian boy (I guess age 22 years) from the cute little Italian island would be a perfect example of this. He didn’t even really speak English. I don’t really speak Italian. (My friends were leaving, he said “you go? you go? you go?” repeatedly until his friend whispered “where you going!” and he started repeatedly asking me “where you go? where you go?” when I went to leave.) He turned up at the bar we ended up going to. Backed me against a wall and… it went [downhill] from there (yes the hood of a car was involved, but no clothes were lost – we were in public, people, who do you think I am!).

Regardless. My point is that I didn’t need much time to be ok with this (i.e. being thrown against a wall or the hood of a car). Or much additional evidence about you.

However. If I don’t know how I feel about you? Do not push your luck. I know a lot of other people like being pursued. I do too – sometimes. If I don’t know yet? Do not pursue me. Do not pressure me. In fact, you should probably play hard to get… just a little.

Just give me some goddamn space to make up my own goddamn mind.

Case in point. Meet Gianni (the funny thing here is how Italian his name looks – and how American it sounds…). He worked at the hotel we stayed at in Naples. He called his friend to come hang out with us because he didn’t speak English and his friend did. We hung out and shared a bottle of wine.

Johnny – whoops  I mean Gianni – made no effort to conceal the fact that he was interested. He and his friend made quite a show of translating what he wanted to say to me (to Amy’s utter delight and entertainment). He was pretty cute (in a very… Roman way… maybe channeling some Joaquin Phoenix). I think, if I spoke Italian, he would also probably have been charming. He was definitely flirtatious.

But. By the end of the night, and as much pursuing and flattery as he could muster (via translation), I wanted far less to do with Little Johnny than I had originally.

Of course, he ruined any and all last little glimmers of hope by shoving his tongue down my throat.

Sorry – that sounds much worse than it was. I allowed this to happen – because I figured what the hell, and I like making out. So… why not. Whatever.

Yeah, no.

So the other way to get me to want you to get the hell away from me is to be a very bad kisser. I thought Italian men were supposed to be good at that shit. Your giant tongue in my face is not intriguing. It’s making me gag. And not in a good way.


8 Comments leave one →
  1. October 28, 2010 12:01 pm

    Well personally I think bad kissing can ruin a sure thing on both sides of the gender equation. I know from personal experience that if a woman that I may have been supremely attracted to is a horrible kisser then all bets are off.

    There there are only a few things in my book that can make up for a lack of finesse in the touching tounges department, and chances are if you can’t kiss you’re not going to be any good at those either.

    Loving reading about Italy!!

    • October 28, 2010 2:58 pm

      Seriously, right? Yikes! I do have to say, sometimes you can do some training… sometimes not. And sometimes you just don’t care to.

      Glad you are enjoying reading! Thanks!

  2. October 28, 2010 9:43 pm

    yeah you know, I think it’s so much about body language. If someone wants you to just back off it is really obvious. In any language. But of course the dudely types (and some ladies) are often (not always!) socialized to ignore those boundary flags and just keep pushing. Which is not sexy.

    I mean, it works on the naive, I suppose. But you encounter that flavor of asshole long enough, and you know that if you do take them home, they won’t want to use a damn condom, or they won’t reciprocate the foreplay, or they’ll try surprise anal. In short, you already know how shite in bed this person will be .

    And of course you know men as pursuers women as prey ugh gross fuck that noise.

    I really wish some kind of pamphlet could be handed out upon matriculating from high school about how much more likely you are to get some if you are respectful and show yourself to be very attentive to the object of your erstwhile bangin’ hopes. But then ‘merrka would COLLAPSE IN A CLOUD OF COMMUNISTIC MIXED FABRIC MADNESS!

    • October 29, 2010 12:33 pm

      I do not understand why it is so difficult for people to understand some social cues. BTW, Lil Gianna has sent me a FB friend request and e-mailed me on there THREE TIMES, the last time asking me why I haven’t responded. Hello? I blew you off on my last freakin day in Naples and never responded to your friend request or e-mails? AND, in case you had forgotten, I never had sex with you either.

      Yeah… so the whole letting-you-kiss-me may have been a lil confusing…

      Regardless. I think it is the men-as-pursuer-ew-gross thing… and a touch of the grew-up-this-way-or-something-soceital-influence-on-the-menz too… A pamphlet would be right handy (handy? that’s what she said – oh sorry), but let’s be honest, most of the people who act this way would decide it didn’t pertain to them (because they be hot hot macho menz) or outright ignore it (just macho menz).

      PS “surprise anal” should not be funny – is not funny – and yet…

      PPS Yes – must watch out for clouds of communistic mix fabric…

  3. October 29, 2010 9:05 am

    Beware of 22-year-olds! With me, after 1, they became an epidemic! They were everywhere!

    I can never figure out where the “u” goes in Coliseum. And I always want to put in 2 “L”s.

    • October 29, 2010 12:34 pm

      Epidemic 22-year-olds? Hmmm… that sounds like trouble… good trouble…?


      I took me much longer than it should have and a trip to the Word Spell Check to figure out how to spell “Coliseum”.

  4. October 29, 2010 12:36 pm

    I think perhaps I just channel Tupac…

    “Hate to sound sleazy / but tease me / I don’t want it if it’s that easy…”


  1. What [else] you can learn from Random Dudes I Met in Europe. « Women Are From Mars

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