Honeymoon for One

This trip hasn't been at all what I expected. I was supposed to be coming here for a romantic honeymoon in the Tuscan countryside. Instead, I'm here alone, hanging on through sheer spite and honestly with the help of a few overly priced but delicious cocktails from the plane. There aren’t enough Bloody Marys or Mimosas in the world for finding out that the groom is still in love with his high school sweetheart. I mean really, what the fuck? 

Well, at least when he left, he was oh so kind and let me keep the all-expenses paid trip to Italy. Why were they already paid again? Oh, that’s right. Because I paid for these tickets and I’m having this vacation. First order of business is figuring out how the hell to get out of this airport. Six years with this man and he never once mentioned that he might still possibly be holding a flame for someone else. I think he brought up her name once the entire time we were together. He basically left me for a ghost. That romance he had as a teenager? He said he wanted those feelings back. Ha! Good luck sir! 

I’d bet money (enough to cover this entire trip) that his high school love is married with three kids by now. At least I hope she is. I can’t wait for when he comes trying to crawl back to me with the “I’m so sorrys” and the “I made a big mistake” but by then it’ll be too late. I’ll be a changed woman by then. I’ll have spent time in a foreign country, away from whatever grip it is he has on me. I’m fully resisting the urge to immediately check his socials. What if he did find her and she’s gorgeous and they look happy together?

Oh God. I hate that I feel this way. He’s making me into someone that I’m not. When we met, I was carefree and fun and I certainly never imagined feeling this bitter. I spent most of my twenties with him. He knowingly took some of the best years of my life! But, you know what? There’s nothing I can do about that now and I’m going to make myself a promise. As of this moment, I’m promising myself that I am going to have the best time of my life on this trip. I deserve it! Starting here and now. At this confusing airport.

“Excuse me … uh, un bar?” I ask an older gentleman passing by. He looks me up and down and points directly behind us without saying a word. “Oh, grazie!” I say and amble happily down the hall with my one bag strapped to me. I’m cute and I’m fun, I remind myself. If I weren’t, that man wouldn’t have checked me out like that! Or maybe he was judging me for going to the bar this early. Hard to say. I keep walking for a few more seconds scanning for the bar, but I don’t see it anywhere. I pass by a small cafe and double back. “Uh, hi there.” I smile at the hostess. “Buongiorno.” She says, but she never looks up at me nor does she smile. “Um, scusa, I’m looking for uh, un bar?” I press on. 

“Si, questo è un bar. Preferisci stare o in piedi?” I curse myself for not spending more time studying the language before coming, it’s just that I was more than a little distracted. Is she asking me about my feet? I’m confused, is there a dress code? She said it’s a bar but it looks like a cafe. Maybe it’s both? Oh God, what if she means my shoes are considered hideous here and they don’t want to let me in? “Scusa signorina! I’m so sorry about my Crocs. It’s just that I was on the plane and they’re so comfy and I well, I should’ve thought better of it or changed them before I got off the plane. Scusa!” 

“Okay, ti farò sedere a un tavolo allora. Da questa parte.” I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s going to seat me! I’m in. Looking around, I only see other people drinking coffee, but I don’t care. I’ll be the lone American drunk. No one knows me here anyway. At least, that’s what I tell myself as she leads me to a table. “Grazie.” I thank her as she points to a table. It’s a table meant for at least two people, so I sit in one chair and put my bag in the other. I’m going to make the most of this. I take out my phone and begin typing out a text to Mom. “Hey Mom, I made it safely. Not my proudest moment but I’m already at the bar! Love you.” She quickly responds.

“Oh, good Honey. I'm glad you made it. I wish you would’ve let me come with you! You know I worry about you traveling alone. Drinking all by yourself in a foreign place?! Call me!!” I smile and place my phone on the table and then jump a little bit because I hadn’t realized that a man is standing right next to me. A very good-looking Italian man.

“Ciao Signora, vuoi un cappuccino o macchiato oggi?” I don’t know much Italian, but I do know he’s asking me if I want coffee and that he thinks I’m old by his use of signora. “Um, no thank you!” My cheeks feel hot. I lean closer to him and half talk, half whisper, “do you have anything stronger?” His eyes light up a little. “Aaah, sì sì. Stay here, I will be right back.” He speaks English! I’m so relieved to hear my own language spoken that I relax a little in my chair. I grab my phone again and text Mom.

“I’m alright! Promise. I’ll call you once I get to my hotel, okay? Love you!!!." This time as the bartender walks back over to me I’m able to fully take in how gorgeous he looks. He’s so tall and muscular and right when I start imagining how his hands would feel around my waist … he sets down a small cup in front of me. It looks like a white teacup. I glance inside at what he’s set down and realize it’s a few shots of espresso. I begin to laugh as the aroma reaches up to my nose. He looks puzzled. “Signora?” He cocks his head and chuckles a bit with me. “I’m sorry!” I let out a very sexy snort and then immediately put my hands over my face to hide my embarrassment.

“Signora, do I need to call the crazy cops for you?” I look up at him and he’s smiling widely at me. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe you should call the crazy cops for me today.” I say and my stomach is starting to feel sore from laughing. I decide maybe I should explain to him. “I thought I was ordering alcohol.” 

This time he really looks puzzled. “You thought you would order alcohol at the bar?” Yes, yes that is exactly what I thought. 

“Signora, bar is for espresso. You are looking for sbarra or ristorante.” The realization hits. I’m at a coffee shop. A coffee only shop. They call them bars here. I feel a little extra dumb now sitting here with this beautiful man while I’m wearing my baby blue Crocs and trying to order alcohol at his cafe. “Oh my God, I should go! This is so embarrassing.” I take a few dollars out of my bag and place them on the table. “Here, wait. Also, that won’t cover it. Put your money away.” He says. I stand next to the table and wait for … what exactly? A few moments later he returns with two larger mugs.

“Here, sit. Why don’t you tell me your day?” He moves my bag out of the other chair and sits down across from me. I protest, “you don’t have time for that! Aren’t you working right now? Please, you’re being too nice to an old woman like me.” Now it’s his turn to burst out laughing. “Old woman? Conosco i miei polli and you are not the old woman.” I’m taken aback. “I thought you thought I was old? You called me Signora?” He smiles. “Signora is a sign of respect for a woman you do not yet know and as you say, I am at work after all.” I slowly slide down to sit back in my chair. He’s brought us two lattes. He must get a lot of American customers because it’s made exactly how I drink them at home. I meet his eyes and begin to spill the whole story. 

I don’t know what all I’ll be learning while I’m here. I’m not sure if I’ll spend any time at all with this man outside of this bar. All I know is that for once, the uncertainty feels good and for a moment, I feel like who I was before this all happened. I’m not worried about what’s waiting for me when I get home. After all, l’amore domina senza regole. I’ve heard that it means, ‘love rules without rules.’