The unrepentant traitor: I met him about four years ago. Green eyes and crooked smile. Disarming. We were dating for just over two months. Beautiful speeches, laughter, subtle irony, empathy, sensual ... and no kisses. Not even the shadow of a kiss, a caress, a Palpatine, the surrogate fool of a dead hand on the ass. Nothing.
And while I resigned to the idea of \u200b\u200bbeing completely undesirable, or much more likely event that he was gay, came by his own admission, the incontrovertible truth: the crooked smile, the sexiest of all time was engaged for over ten years lived a few months, and expecting a child dall'ignara companion, who then married less than a year later. The self-confessed thought it well to justify everything by saying (I quote): "In the beginning, you had to be just a fuck, like so many others. I had not anticipated that I would love you. And that's why I stayed let me go by. I did not want to hurt you, I did not want to hurt you. " He did not want to hurt me. How sweet. He did not want. I hope I avergliene done so much with the kick in the ass that I settled.
The pathological liar: Spring three years ago. Dark eyes, beautiful hands, diplomatically fascinating. And creatively. Very creative. So creative to arrange a hunt treasure. With much of the map, cryptic clues, riddles, funny, narrow lanes, panoramic views, and romantic surprises.
At a certain point of the enchanted path leads me to a room, blindfold me (with a range of Inter, ed) me and says, "Pick a number between one and five." And I, between the joy and amazement, I respond with a dreamy voice: "Four." I discovered your eyes and gently, in front of me, curled his two chairs, four are waiting for wonderful toy. The entire collection of Winnie the Pooh. Lacked only the elephant, who was not able to find, and then, years later, I got a guy in Turin. But that's another story.
He continues: "Choose a different number." Stavolta opto per il due, e l'incredibile cornuto ( ah no, quella sono io --.-- ) mi viene incontro con un fascio di luminosissimi girasoli ed iris bianchi. Sapeva, lo schifosobuagiardosenzapalle ( e questo è proprio lui!! ) che io adoro i girasoli, molto più delle rose o di qualunque altro fiore che madre natura abbia avuto in sorte di concepire.
Quando scelgo il cinque, mi fa girare piano su me stessa così che gli occhi possano posarsi su uno striscione, alle mie spalle, che diceva: "La magia del sogno con te diventa realtà". Peccato che il sogno fosse, in verità, un incubo. Ma questo l'ho capito qualche tempo dopo.
Al numero tre corrispondeva un gigantesco uovo di Pasqua, più alto di me di almeno cinquanta cm. And at number one, is suddenly a waiter with two glasses of red wine and a tray full of all my favorite desserts: the tart with strawberries, nutella with the boats, the caprese, the lemon delight.
I shall return home by walking ten feet off the ground, and with the precise sense of having met the man of my life. But the man of my life was also the man in the life of another, and I found that less than a week later with a text message: "I'm an asshole, a bastard, but my feelings for you are real and true. I am engaged for over three and a half years, but do not love, I love you. If you said you had not been so great. Now she is coming to my house, do not look up neither of the two phones. "
I hope that a swarm of locusts has driven an armed uprising in his pants.
The maniac: for the" we do not miss anything. "I met him I'd just vent ' years. We were at the birthday dinner of a mutual friend. I sit next to, and engages in a desperate attempt at seduction. Firmly reject the siege and education, but he does not give up. At the end of the evening, really wants to ask my cell phone number to the boy who was celebrating his birthday. The next day I called, and I, unaware that that number was his, I say. When I see who it is, I renew my invitation to let loose and, unconsciously, I sign the my sentence. From quel momento iniziano le telefonate ad ogni ora, del giorno e della notte, minacce di morte, e pedinamenti.
Non faccio ironia su questa storia perché, all'epoca, ho conosciuto il sapore vero della paura. Non sono mai riuscita a confessarlo ai miei genitori, per uno strano senso di vergogna che, ancora oggi, non saprei spiegare. Per due mesi ho vissuto nel terrore di non tornare viva a casa, ogni volta che uscivo per andare all'università o per una birra con gli amici. Ho cambiato numero di cellulare, ed allontanato tutte le amicizie comuni che avrebbero potuto rappresentare un tramite. Ho scoperto, anni dopo, che era sposato ed era suo costume importunare le ragazzine. All'epoca la legge sullo stalking non esisteva, altrimenti avrei denunciato. There were extremes.
Tombeur femme: the cock instead of a brain transplant. Literally. A busy summer, full of passion, warm sunny days, afternoons spent in her house by the sea, and great, great, great promises.
Then one day, the damn phone brings the damn news: "The girl that I attended while working in Modena, Naples fell to surprise me. He stops three days. Do not look for me, I do I live as soon as you return to home. I do not want to lose you, I do not want nothing changes between us. Sunday morning, he drove into the station, and at night I come to you. "
what wilt? What did you say? I read that right? Her position and take me? Then I position and resume lei? E non deve cambiare nulla? Non deve cambiare nulla?? Ma allora sei uno stronzo. Sei talmente stronzo che bisognerebbe spiegartelo con un disegno. Sei talmente stronzo, ma talmente stronzo, che bisognerebbe inventare un'altra parola per dirlo!!
Qualche giorno dopo. Altro dannato cellulare, altro dannato sms: "La storia della tipa di Modena venuta a Napoli per farmi una sorpresa, non era vera. Mi sono inventato tutto, perché non sapevo come fare a chiudere il rapporto con te. Stava diventando tutto troppo serio, ed io non sono pronto per un impegno vero".
Meno di ventiquattro ore dopo: "Mi manchi, non riesco a smettere di pensarti".
Muori.
Oggi racconto queste storie con divertita ironia. Ma, at the time, every disappointment, every betrayal is painful as it was a stab to the heart. The real miracle is not the fact that I have survived some pain, because I'm sure many others, like me, carry on their shoulders the weight of past failures, and wounds that are still burning. The real miracle is that to survive it was my idealism, my stand. Why I love, I stopped believing. But, as unfounded, continue to hope.
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