Beautiful. Like the sun, like Ewan McGregor. Amazing face, amazing body.
Yes, it is, I slept with him and
now I’ll tell you how is gone.
Well, everything starts when I
discover that my neighbour was Italian. This it would be ok if that girl
wouldn’t became my future housemate. Yes, she would, because her house will be
sold soon. Shit, I say to myself, I’ve just left my previous apartment so not
to stay with Italians. But at the same time, I know, I desperately need a girl
friend. I’ve had just boys around me recently. That means no gossips, no
infusions, no “hey love” or “hey beautiful”, but Playstations, drugs, football,
“hey dude”, “hey bitch”.
So, one day, Tamish invites the
Italian neighbour girl to see our house. Her name is Nicoletta, she’s Sicilian,
23 year-old, pretty and clever. Love at first sight, we exchange our mobile
numbers and she calls me to take a coffee together the day after. Our home are
very close, we share the same gate, so I leap over it. She really lives in a
amazing house, the kitchen is nice like those in the magazines, three leather
couches, huge telly. A little dark maybe, not because the windows aren’t big
enough, but because Brad, Roy and Peter are three metal boys that love living
in the darkness. One day Brad and Nicoletta have a terrible argument over
Christmas’s decorations, but about this I’ll tell you in the future. Who had
had the idea of buying a Chrismas’s tree with a Santa Claus on the top and to
put it in the dining room in your opinion?
Anyway, coffees and chats, the
hours fly away like birds. Ours throats are dry although we have a lot things
to say to each other yet, so we decided to go out and to catch a tram directed
to CBD. We meet a little group of Italians that a week back Nicoletta had met.
They’re from Sardegna, and speak zero english.
We move toward a bar for a beer.
The place only sat afew others, it was just us and five men sipping hard
liquors. I say something to them or they say something to me, I don’t remember
now who started talking. Talking with people in the bars is a skill of my own,
it’s written in my blood. So after a few tries, I discover that they are in Melbourne for job.
The girls reach me quickly. They
make me notice that one of that guys is terrifically hot. I look at them. Their
average age is 35 year-old. The 27 year-old that looks like a 40 year-old guy
comes from New York, he’s an advertaiser and wears a horrible pink-salmon
shirt; the other one of the same age is graceless, regardless the way he likes
to dress, then there’s Ewan McGregor. To be honest, I didn’t give to him a lot
of attention, he gave me plenty. The girls are trying all their picking up
strategies, one girl even asks to him to make a photo together, but the
scottish looks at me with a wry grin. You know, there are a lot of handsome men
around the world, but if someone gives attention to us and he looks kind and
without expectation, he surely will heed the Alfa-male title. And, about
Alfa-male, everything is proceding by the nature’s rules.
He’s brilliant, and wants to make
himself seem interesting but I smile kindly, without enthusiasm.
He insists, so I give him one
point. My girl friends insist with him too; it’s a good opportunity for to test
him, if he quit for easier prey he’s off. I want to put him on probation so I
take him for a ride and I start to whistle and ask to him to do the same (he’s
a prince, a classy man, I’m sure he doesn’t do certain kind of things…).
He does! So, he tries to whistle
but he can’t, then looks at me with a sad face, point 2.
«But I can do this» and handling
a foot with the hand he does a sort of acrobacy. Oh my god, he’s definitively
crazy!, I say to me, so plus 20 points.
The other girls, he really
doesn’t look at them, plus 30. Then Nicoletta says to me «I’ll give you $20 if
you have sex with him tonight!».
Well, we start talking, he’s
smart, funny, has got an impressive sense of humor (I’m really for men that
make me laugh), plus 10. Out of the blue he ask me if I would like to have a
children. He would, a lot, but says he hasn’t find the right woman yet (ps:
he’s 37 year-old), plus 50 to him, minus 10 to me because I rise to the bait.
Then he kisses me.
My friends want to change place.
He asks to me what I want to do.
«Going with my friends, for
sure.»
Ok, Prince Charming, you’re nice
but I haven’t a clue who you are. I’m in Melbourne with my crazy girl friend,
now, I want dance on the night and make the morning howling at the moon.
I’ve taken my decision as far he
earns plus 20 more saying: «Listen, I’ll catch my flight to Sydney tomorrow
morning, maybe we’ll never meet again; I swear, I won’t touch you, I just want
to talk with you a bit more…»
I stand still meanwhile it starts
to rain outside, on the street. It’s a kind of fine gentle rain, the kind of
rain that dampens the faces and makes the road sparkling. Without I could say
nothing, Stephen carries me on his shoulders and takes me away with him.
In the cab I start to worry,
there are his friends with us. He realizes I’m not completely relaxed and gives
me his room key, “this is your key”.
The cab stops in front a huuuge
skyscraper in South Yarra, rich area of Melboune.
The apartment is amazing. Has a
wall completely in glass, you can see the whole of Melbourne from the high, the
sea and the boats illuminated by the moon. One of his friends puts the music
up, he asks me if I want something to drink but I don’t want nothing. I don’t
like his friends, they appear rude, I don’t understand very well when they are
talking.
We decide to go to sleep. Stephen
offers his tooth-brush to me, then he brushes his teeth. We go to bed dressed.
He’s kept his word.
So it is only evident that this
would happen:
Oh, my love, my darling,
I’ve hungered from your touch
A long, lonely time…
and
And I… will always love you,
ooh
Will always love you…
or
Now I’ve had the time of my
life
No I never felt like this
before
Yes I swear it’s the truth
And I owe it all to you…
Actually, I’ll never see him
again. I send some messages to him, maybe he could reply but n-o-t-h-i-n-g.
Disappeared, completely, melted into the ink of the night.
«Baldi, don’t be afraid, sign
plus 1, that’s it.»
Giuliano was right.