International Waters

Viva la Resistance

I’ve only had one French suitor to date. It was a short lived romance but fun while it lasted. The guy was here on some work related purposes and had to go back home to publish his findings. That or he needed to buy another beret. I was pretty wasted when I met this guy so I only semi remember taking him back to my house. I can get pretty loud during sex but apparently I was so loud for this dude that he thought I worked in porn. We spent a lot of time together but unsurprisingly, a lot of that was spent having sex. His English was minimal and I never got past basic French. I wish I could’ve kept this one around a bit longer. We would’ve had an amazing open relationship.

Ciao bel ragazzo

A few years ago I spent a semester in Florence. I had heard that the men there were very forward so I spent about a week waiting to be wooed. When that didn’t work, I went about my usual route and approached every man I thought was good looking. My first encounter was a man named Giulio. Fuck, I don’t know how it’s spelled and I’m too lazy to look it up. Sorry dude. Again, I knew only basic Italian so I had my friend translate to make sure this dude just wanted to fuck me, not cut me up into small pieces. After about an hour or so, I thought I could get by on my own so we left my friend behind and headed back to this dudes house. After being on the road for at least 15 minutes and realizing that all I could tell this dude was that a) the drive was long and b) yes, it was cold that night I started to freak out a little. What the hell was I thinking taking off with someone in a foreign city where all I would be able to tell anyone was “Here is the pen!” We ended up having sex for about 45 minutes and as soon as he was finished he reached in the drawer for another condom. No time needed to reload, woo! But by this time my nerves had gotten the better of me so I feigned being tired in hopes of being taken back home. He complied. I definitely made it back to his house on more than a few occasions before leaving Italy behind.

The only other dude I slept with regularly while I was there was a dude named Gianni. We met early on and I became good friends with his friends. Him, I didn’t run into again until a few weeks later. He was hot, I was attracted, why not. The anticipation was brutal and when it finally happened I couldn’t get my roommates out the house fast enough. I brought him back after a night out and after some serious convincing that my roomies would be better off partying some more. I couldn’t get my panties off quick enough for this dude. Everything was going great but of course nothings perfect. After tearing all our clothes off, he went down on me…came up for air…goes down again….comes back up and runs straight to the bathroom. Geeze, I know I had been out dancing the night away but I didn’t think it merited a reaction like that. After taking a second to reevaluate my freshness, it occurs to me that this guy has had more than his share of alcohol that night. His heaving snapped me back into reality and I started pulling my clothes back on. Sexy time was over. This guy decides some puke isn’t going to slow him down so he comes back to the room, socks still on and now covered in puke, and tries to lure me back into bed. Really Romeo? His charm only bought him a few seconds because before you know it he was back in the bathroom. Except this time he stayed there. Naked and puking.

Around this same time my roomies came home and I had to block their entrance to the back part of the house for fear of the angry Italian sausage back there and its wrangler who was busy praying to the toilet. Poor dude eventually crawled into my bed and spent all night puking. We did eventually hook up many times after that and I even met his folks. I will remember Gianni for a lot of different things but mostly for his ability to still try to seduce a girl while semi covered in puke.

There were many, many other Italians whom had the pleasure (headache) of spending some time with me but I can’t for the life of me remember any of their names. Except William. Shot out to the dude who stood me up. I can’t catch a break, even when in other countries geeze.

Gobble, gobble

Some women are only proposed to once in their lifetimes, some maybe two or three times. In my case, an old Turkish lover of mine has taken every opportunity he’s had to ask for my hand in marriage. I’ve now lost count. After three months of dating he told me he loved me. I wasn’t feeling the same way and I happened to be on vacation when he told me so I broke up with him. That didn’t stop him from waiting for me and I wasn’t exactly helping the situation seeing as how as soon I got back home I kept sleeping with him. I had been abstinent for about 4 years and this was the first guy I had sex with after. He was definitely blessed I can say that but unfortunately he wasn’t too keen on how to use it.

The first time we had sex I was trying to remember why the hell I voluntarily hadn’t put out for so long and was just trying to enjoy the ride, quite literally, but I couldn’t enjoy it. Every minute or so he’d ask if I was ok and if I had came yet. After the fourth or fifth time he asked, I lied and said I was done. Since we’ve last had sex I’ve kept in touch with him, often forgetting that he said he’d wait for me. I’m not quite sure what he’s waiting for since I’ve always been pretty adamant that I will not marry him or have his children. I last heard from him a few weeks ago but I guess now he’s dating someone who he doesn’t have to wait for. Go him. Maybe if this whole dating thing doesn’t work out for me I can take him up on his offer for marriage.

Kidding. Please don’t read that and take that and a yes.

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