The Italian Connection

When they say, “Put it out there in the cosmos and see what happens,” who would have known that the cosmos would send me what I was asking?  Like when did it finally begin to listen?

I’ve put lots of things “out there” like finding the perfect guy, finding the perfect agent for my novel with options for movie rights and of course~ winning the lottery…all I can say is the cosmos must be deaf, dumb and blind, had its hearing aid turned off and wasn’t paying attention. Until now.

Back in October, I began blogging about how much I love, love, love everything Italian and then one day a tall, dark and handsome Italian writes to me on FaceBook saying how much he enjoyed my blog.

Who knew I’d meet someone so sweet and charming simply because I put it out there in the cosmos for all the world to read?

Are you wondering why on earth would I take a chance and meet a total stranger who was following my blog? Could be risky.  Like what if he was Charlie Manson’s relative?  Or some other nut-job?

I may have been born at night…but it wasn’t last night.  Give a girl a little credit.

A gal-pal from the gym read my blog and told her friends about it on her FB wall.  Lo and behold, her best friend, an Italian and a handsome Italiano at that, read it and immediately called her asking what to do.

She advised him to write to me and thus began the beginning of something new.  And wonderful.  A romance?  Too soon to tell, but since I met Tall, Dark and Handsome in Venice, Tall, Fair and Handsome in Firenze, how perfectly fabulous and strange that I’d actually meet Tall, Italian and Handsome in the desert of all places.

At this point TIH (Tall Italian and Handsome) talked to me several times on the phone, sent e-mails and text messages to me.  He was quite attentive.  Having so much in common-both educators, musicians and of course lovers of all things Italian, he asked me out.

I wasn’t nervous because:

      1.  He was good friends with my friend, so not exactly a strange stranger.

2. I felt at ease with him on the phone. He was very polite, almost apologetically so:  I was thinking that maybe we’d meet for lunch?  But, if that isn’t good, we can do something else? I just want to make you happy.  So, maybe if you like we can meet for Italian food in the foothills, unless you like a different restaurant? Maybe you don’t even want Italian food.  It doesn’t really matter.  How is noon?  Or maybe you don’t like noon?  Maybe 12:30?  I’m sure you must think I must be too aggressive.  Who is this guy anyway making all these plans? His kindness and gentle way spoke volumes-even over the phone-sight unseen. I’ve never been asked out on a date with numerous apologies for what I still don’t know.

We agreed to meet at Tavolino's Italian restaurant.  He was waiting at the front door. He took my hand and lead me to our table, pulled out my chair and said all kinds of flattering things that girls love to hear. He was quite the gentleman.  We spoke for hours while we enjoyed a leisurely lunch. When lunch was over, he walked me to my car saying, but also asking, “I’m going to call and… ask you… out...?.. ?...”  He said that with question marks in his eyes.  Without missing a beat, I replied, “And I’m going to say yes, when you do.”  We both giggled. First dates are always so strangely wonderful when they are wonderful.

The second date was lovely.   Since TIH knew I taught music, he suggested having dinner at a piano bar in one of my favorite historic resorts. We talked and talked all night sharing stories.  Who knew I’d find someone who could out-story me!

Meanwhile, the following date was cancelled.  And the following three. He had a tooth infection and a swollen face the size of Texas.  Or so he said, but, that didn’t get in the way.  We spoke constantly on the phone, keeping in touch and then one afternoon he called saying that he was at a friend’s house, some Italian guy, telling him all about me and that this guy wanted to talk to me.

Since I’m absolutely crazy, head-over-heels in love with all things Italian, it shouldn’t surprise you to learn that I have been studying Italian.  I love the way the language rolls off my tongue. Talk about beautiful.

His friend gets on the phone and sounded so Italian.  Like you hear in the movies. But this was real.  Not an actor portraying some Italian guy with a-thickah  accentah-as-he talkah-Italiano-like-ah-this-ah.  This was not The Godfather.  This was the real deal.  His English was heavily laced with an Italian accent thicker than a Bolognese sauce, which made me weak in the knees.

For all I knew he could have been 80 years old, but he spoke a mile a minute with such enthusiasm and effervescence, I could only imagine the accompanying hand gestures and couldn’t wait to meet him.

I was so excited to finally have a chance to talk with someone Italian because I had  mastered  30 CD  lessons and now I was finally going to put some of my new phrases to the test.  One of my most favorites is this:  Ho comprato un bel cappello per mia moglie, which translates to: I bought a beautiful hat for my wife.  Naturally, there was no graceful way to incorporate that into a sentence.  First of all, I don’t have, want or need a wife.  I want a fabulous man to love and adore.  And secondly, I suppose there is no second.  Why would anyone say that?

So, my head was spinning as I tried to impress him beginning with, “Come va?” (How’s it going?)  Then he asked me and I impressed him saying “Non c’è male."  (Not too bad)  He asked my name.  That was easy.  Not the name part, but saying it in Italian:  Mi chiamo Heidi.  Pretty cool.  Then the guy went on and on in Italian thinking I really knew Italian or at least 50 more lessons. I began sounding more like Ralph Kramden from the Honeymooners : A-humina,humina humina…stalling, pausing, humming – I was so embarrassed.  Then, I stuttered a little Italian mixed with a little French and then Spanish words got mixed into the mix. Talk about all mixed up. I was a talking United Nations.  

It was a fun few minutes and I hope to impress both Italians with my other favorite sentence which sounds so cool: Che cosa vorrebbe mangiare? (What would you like to eat?)

Since Jews and Italians love to eat, that favorite phrase may lead to something delicious, but hopefully not too al dente!