Have you ever seen the Lizzie McGuire movie? School trip to Rome. Lizzie tosses a coin in the Trevi Fountain. She is swept off her feet with the ultimate summer fling, Italian heartthrob Paolo only to get her heart ripped out. Yet, somehow still lives out her dream on stage and becomes an iconic star in Italy. Classic millennial cinema, that I still tear up to.
I was 32 when my job gave me the opportunity to spend time in Italy and I thought, “if Lizzie McGuire could have all of that in one summer, under “careful and strict chaperoning” then why couldn’t I?” At least I was a grown ass adult. I was so grown that even as I tossed a coin into that same Trevi Fountain, whispering to myself can I please have a Lizzie McGuire summer, I knew there’s no way that it’s ever going to happen. I haven’t experienced much cosmic magic in my life and to be sure it wouldn’t start happening now.
Boy, was I wrong.
The Greek Titan, Oceanus had much different plans for me.
It started with a pinot grigio out in front of Papal Basilica of Saint Mary Major on a very traditional, hot Roman day. I had a guided experience at the basilica and happened to be early for the first time in my life. Also, I was looking so fire (much like the weather). Curled hair, cute little black dress, actually took the time to put makeup on, who did I think I was?
I had been coordinating with one of the staff for the tour to make sure I had the correct meeting point for the group, a very proud, northern Italian man who I will not name. I will say I did find it quite strange that as we were communicating via WhatsApp that he commented on my profile picture of me enjoying a Swiss Fondue evening from a previous trip with a winning smile, glass of wine, living life with the statement, “You look like a good eater!” What does that even mean? Is that a compliment? Who even are you? I’ll come to find out later that he was trying to admire my smile.
I’m so glad he made that weird, flirty, semi-compliment, because when he walked up to introduce himself I chugged the rest of my pinot and thought, “There’s no way I’m learning anything about archeology.” Short king, voice of a Roman God, a posture and wardrobe that didn’t scream, but whispered in your ear because it knew that he meant business and would take care of anything you needed. But I’ve heard the stories, I knew it would be dangerous to reciprocate. Although I also tend to lean very heavily into the phrase, you only live once and I wouldn’t be in Italy forever.
I think the moment I was head over heels for this man was when he basically told me I was not walking to the next destination, I would be riding in the bus with the rest of his group because he couldn’t have my legs hurting before my next walking tour. On the bus he breaks out in Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer”. He didn’t care what he sounded like, although I would have bought front row tickets no matter the cost, and the rest of the group was also melting in their seats along with me. That was the moment I knew I was in trouble.
It didn’t take long for him to send me another WhatsApp message teasing me about how he could give me a better food walking tour of Italy and hopefully they had a glass of pinot grigio along the way, as he noticed that was my drink of choice. I don’t know that before this moment I’ve ever been in a situation where I’ve been completely consumed by someone, but I do relate to those who have said it’s more like floating instead of falling and I was on cloud nine.
Later, he asked me to join him for a rooftop drink near the Pantheon, ordered a bottle of his favorite white and we spent well over a couple hours talking about complete nonsense. How we grew up, what brought us to Italy (Rome specifically for him), what six movie posters we would put on the wall if we had a home movie theatre, and shared a cigarette or five. I’ll never forget towards the end of the night, he looked at me and said, “ask me something that you would never ask someone the first time you met them?” I knew what he was trying to do, but I decided to give him a curve ball to see if I could crack the suave demeanor and asked if he had ever been arrested before. After a good laugh and a very determinative no, I continued to probe with what were you hoping that I had asked? And like King Neptune himself, commanding every part of the scene around him, he asked why had he not kissed me yet. Done. It’s over. I’m literally so close to experiencing falling in love in less than 24 hours for the first time in my life.
We continued to chat, laugh, he even moved to be sure he was able to put an arm around me and told me he wanted to show me the Trevi Fountain. Little did he know I had already seen it and made that wish for a Lizzie McGuire summer that was unfolding right before my eyes, but his eyes showed so much excitement and passion for seeing this through me, I couldn’t say no. I learned more about that fountain in those 20 minutes than I had the hour the day before and I knew throwing in another coin, according to Italian lore, meant that I would get married in Italy.
The next two days we found excuses to meet up with one another, stealing moments within Rome’s crowded streets. But the time came for my trip to continue on to Malta and I had to say my goodbyes. “I’ve always wanted to marry an American”, were the last words he said to me. Too good to be true, yet I clung to those words like a life raft as I floated along the Mediterranean Sea.
I’ve met men before when I’ve travelled. We had good times, we took our pictures, and then when it was time to say goodbye I just left. Of course there are the conversations of, “I’ll keep in touch”, but that never happens. My life is in America and while I’d love to pretend that it is so easy to pick up and move to Europe, it isn’t that simple.I’d also be heavily relying on a man for help and I’m definitely not doing that. But me and this Italian man, we did keep in touch. Every day. I even cut my Malta trip short to fly back to Italy to spend 32 hours with him before going home.
There were daily bungiornos, pet names like tesoro and bb, plans to see each other again, once in Spain and then he would come to America. But as distance does, it can either make the heart grow fonder or cold. For him, it was the latter. You can call it being an empath, a Gemini rising, or a woman in her 30s with ADHD, but I have a knack for seeing minute changes in behavior and reading the tone behind messages. I can tell when the vibe is off or someone is pulling away. While I was on the fonder end of distance, he was switching jobs, helping his parents, and living a life 6 hours in the future.
Each time that we saw each other after my Italian summer it was a little different. It wasn’t as magical as before and I was even trying to convince myself that this is exactly why when I say goodbye, I mean it and I don’t continue to reach out. I knew I was falling harder than what he was for me and it wasn’t until our trip to Arizona were we finally honest with each other. A real conversation that I typically try to avoid at all costs.
I also had some pretty significant changes happen in my life by the time I saw him again in the United States, like moving across the country for a job, not knowing anyone. That can change a person or add layers to someone. I was still that same girl from Rome, but she was only a piece of me now that didn’t always show up.
He confirmed my feelings saying he doesn’t usually date women that are not concerned with their looks like I am. That I tend to be a very open human being and that maybe he already knows everything about me. I’m too independent, that I’m just not characteristically a normal girl. I don’t act how girls are supposed to act. Things that I had heard over and over again in my life but for some reason it shattered my heart into a million pieces that day.
This man, who was truly unlike anyone I had ever met before, made me believe that I was something special, one of a kind in three days where I knew my clothes were wrinkled, hair damp from sweat and maybe a little too obsessed with the Italian vino blanco. He had me believe that I could and actually did hang the moon in the sky and dissolved that power in one conversation. It was the first time in my life that I realized that I had let a man give me value and I only found out by him taking it away.
The only bandage that I provided was a joke since laughter is the best medicine. Because how does a girl who never let herself fall, explain there is more to her?
Almost a year of communication across timezones, international connecting flights when we’re both in the same area, counting out the days to make sure a package arrived in time for a birthday, all seemed to blow away with the dust of the Arizona desert.
I wanted him to see me the way he did before, more than anything. I wanted to go back in time to when we first locked eyes across Piazza di Santa Maria Maggiore. I wanted to be that girl he asked why hadn’t I kissed him yet, because there was so much chemistry that we could have burned Rome down to the ground in one day just like the old phrase. But that ship has sailed, leaving me with a grief that I can’t quite explain to anyone else unless they’ve been in this same, super specific situation.
You may be wondering, where is he now? How am I doing?
We still talk. It may be the one person that I can have an honest conversation about who I am with, because I know that it’s not going to change his mind and I’m not trying to impress him anymore. We share a similar vibe in our life right now, where sometimes we feel as though our compass is not pointing towards a solid north but there are external magnets constantly changing its course. That we’re constantly traveling and that there isn’t a person who would quite understand this lifestyle enough to want to settle down with us, but do we even want to settle down.
I’m coming to terms that the Italian summer was exactly what it was at face value, al pan, pan, y al vino, vino. Two lonely people who found an interesting partner and lived their best lives for three days without a worry for the future.
There are times when he’ll tell me that I keep him grounded when he feels overwhelmed, because he knows that I’m someone he can count on even though he may not express that in the same way I do for him. Little videos or memes on instagram show up in my messages that made him think of me. And that he realizes he doesn’t know the full picture of who I am, but he shouldn’t try to change me and he doesn’t want to. All things that prevent me from ever having him truly leave my heart.
Maybe I did get exactly what I wished for when I asked for a Lizzie McGuire summer. I had an Italian romance. I was on top of the world. It also came with her heartbreak, following the plot to a T. Disney failed to mention just how long that would last. Now all I have to do is wait for my come up. If the fountain could give me all of that over a span of 3 days, my dreams must be too big for it to happen immediately.
So ask me why I absolutely love and hate Italian men? I’ll only give you one name.