3 days ago I returned home from my mini-break in Ischia with my Italian-Dublinese pal Lara. We had a decent couple of days despite our hotel being squat-hole that instead of offering us our promised “seaside paradise,” provided us with a water-less swimming pool caked with leaves and dry algae, traffic noise 24-7, then adding insult to injury in the way of their breakfast spread of welfare cornflakes, stale muesli, and trying to pass off ‘Orzo’ (like Ovaltine) as real coffee.
Nonetheless we made the best of it and decided to splurge on a day-pass for one of the Islands best resorts: Parco Negombo Terme, where we basqued in the sun, and relay-relaxed in many of their mineral-rich thermal pools. It was nothing less than sublime…
Overall I behaved myself, with only the exception of intentionally fabricating rumours amongst the locals that it was indeed Robbie Williams’ luxurious yacht parked at the docks, then thereafter driving Lara mad with my constant references to the vessel’s hot crew that we spotted nearby, aka. ‘The Seamen/Semen,’
L: “If you like them so much why don’t you invite them to join us?”
CM: “I don’t fancy having seamen/semen with my gelato.”
Upon my return I realized that my few close friends are now gone, or about to leave for the rest of the summer and I will be re-instated as a single social-leper, once again. (FYI: Clark Kent is still hiding from me). In other words, this summer is going to suck, unless I orchestrate some sort of plan of action.
As a desperate, last ditch effort to salvage my tanking social life, I posted a profile on an Italian dating site. Within 24 hours I had literally hundreds of views, several emails and IMs. This was before my profile text was even approved. Therefore hundreds of members saw only my location, age and photo, and regardless of my likes dislikes – they went ahead and emailed or text me anyways.
Welcome to Italy – where inefficiency and wasting time (social masturbation) is the norm, and as a result – nail-biting and/or pulling chunks of your hair out by the roots is an unavoidable national pastime.
I have enough trouble understanding English-speaking men from my homeland, therefore one can imagine my dilemma in this country. Prime example is one of the first emails I received. It was from ‘The Italian Tom Green:’
“Beautiful and sunny as few, even if we do not know personally, I would like us to become friends and who knows. I have very serious intentions, copy and paste the link in the address bar of Explorer and listen to the song that I dedicate to you. I’m on FB, if you like we can add us there to know us better. I see how myself, pictured, as I have several homonyms, I am cutting the cake of my degree. A kiss.”
-Italian Tom Green
Cool song, even though it translates to: “You WERE beautiful.”
Anyways who gives a crap, a compliment is a compliment.
The singer is pretty hot for a 50 year old dude. How about I date him instead?
Then while trying to get a lock on members that weren’t posting crappy photos: Taken in the mirror, 8+ more years old, sporting dark glasses, didn’t look like they were shot by an ATM or shopping mall security camera, and were simply IN FOCUS – I this came across this happy ragazzo…
He may be living with his mother or grandmother,
as no bachelor’s taste in decor could be this bad…
However all bases are covered here for the seduction and subsequent repentance…
- Strong, solid headboard to hold on to
- Cheap cemetery candle placed on the nightstand for sexy-licious mood-lighting
- Large painting of Jesus over the bed for spiritual ambiance
- 2 pictures of (Saint) Padre Pio for protection, instead of condoms
- Tiny plastic bottle of holy water from Lourdes in the shape of the Virgin Mary, to bless thyself and thy partner (or holy-cleanse one’s privates) thereafter
- Glow-in-the-dark rosary to use in ‘out-of-wedlock post-fuck’ repentance
- Mineral water for post-fuck hydration
Finally, my evening was saved and hope restored by my means of a stimulating, lengthy conversation with a K-9 unit police officer (originally from Rome) living in North Italy who doubles as a Roman Soldier. Yes, you heard correctly….
The Roman: The book I am reading is about Roman battles and history.
CM: Cool… Must be interesting. The Roman legionnaires were pretty hard-core.
The Roman: You don’t like Romans?
CM: Who said I don’t like Romans? Love Romans. Those helmets, armour, battle gear. That’s hot. LOL!
CM: Oh, are you now? That’s fascinating!
The Roman: We’ll be near your town next month…
CM: You don’t say?…
Incoming mental-picture and the sound of my tongue hitting my ceramic floor…
He’s got my number, is none the wiser that I blog – and I plan to keep it that way.
But if you find me with my head stuck on a pole in the piazza…
You’ll know why.