The other night I had sex. In Rome. With a European.
I won’t comment on the sex itself. I know, I know, how *very* unlike The Glitter Bug! But I feel there was so much more of value I took from that encounter than the spine tingling orgasm had in the gorgeous apartment decked out with antique roman relics.
I was walking home to my apartment in the early afternoon to get my laptop and head to a bar to do some work when Mr European called out to me as I was walking past. His bar was directly opposite my apartment and I knew exactly who he was, because I had been perving on him each time I walked past for the last 2 days. He invited me to sit, and I said I would, I just had to go and grab my work. I took my sweet ass time, and sprutzed a little perfume on before heading back down and taking my seat.
His pick up line was perfection. After finishing my wine, I went to order a Spritz Hugo, to which he replied, ‘I finish at 8, how about I take you for one then?’
Not cheesy, not sleazy, just appropriate, quick, and direct. Of course I agreed. And met him back at his bar at 11.
Here are the top 5 things that I loved about my night in Rome with Mr European.
1. Good ol’ European Chivalry
Anyone who believes chivalry is dead should go to Europe.
This particular European angel called me out the minute he saw me, and obviously liked what he saw, and then went on to back it up with romantic gestures.
He offered me a bite of the salad he had made himself for lunch, and fed it into my mouth from his fork. He ran down the street and back when I said I needed a measuring tape and he couldn’t find one in his bar… when he went to get changed and met me out the front of his bar, he kissed me on the forehead before taking my hand in his and walking me down the cobbled streets. When a car came down the road he stood in front of me to protect me, and he paid for my drinks.
I’m not a massive romantic, but it’s nice to be treated to a little romance; especially when in Rome.
2. My body was adored and relished
Europeans are renown for liking their women a little curvy. Every inch of my buxom body was worshiped by Mr European. I had a little twin set on, with my mid-drift exposed, and when he wrapped his arm around my waist, he was grabbing that flesh like he couldn’t wait to devour it.
We walked for 20 minutes to sit by the river and have a drink, and he didn’t let go of my hand for a moment. When sitting across from me, he was either holding my hand, or resting his hands on my legs, under the table. When it was time to go, and we were walking once again along the riverside, he picked me up and wrapped my legs around his waist while we walked another 50 meters along the river, just so he could get a better handful of my legs and ass… while most women would dread this, I didn’t have a gun to his head, and can assure you that he would have put me down if I was too heavy… he just loved the jelly.
From the time we left his work, after stopping for a drink and even during our walk back to my apartment, we stopped several times because he simply could not keep his hands off me. Many women might find this rude, or full on, or disgusting… but let’s assess this and be real. It was obvious that I was in Rome for one night. He knew I lived in Melbourne. I had agreed to go out with him for some drinks, and I was allowing myself to be kissed. I was enjoying his company as much as he was enjoying mine. And instead of feeling disgusted or offended by his behaviour, I chose to be flattered by it. Simple.
In bed, he ran his hands up and down every inch of my body, from the base of my neck to my new croissant tattoo on my foot.
Not only with Mr European, but with many men that have crossed my path both this trip and in years passed, they love a buxom bird… carry yourself with a bit of confidence and these European men will eat you alive – if you’re into that kind of thing…
3. Sweet talking, without talking bullshit
Remember my last horror story about Mr Roma? The dip shit that stood me up on the last night of my last trip to Rome? (Brush up on that story here)… Well… he was a bullshit artist (and he also wasn’t Italian – he was from Melbourne; I should have known better…). He promised me the world, even after I asked him not to, and fed me bullshit after bullshit about all the things we were going to do when we got back to Melbourne.
The difference between a smooth talker and a bullshit artist is their promise (or lack of promises) about the future. You see – I am on holidays. I never will/want to see this guy again. There is no harm in enjoying an evening together; we are both adults who are capable of enjoying a night of fun without getting attached or feeling offended.
Mr European talked sweet, he told me I was beautiful, he asked me about my life in Melbourne, and told me about his life moving all over Europe. He fantasised about coming to Melbourne to see what life was like – but at no point did he talk about ‘us’ in Melbourne, or a ‘future’ together. And I respected the shit out of him for that. You see, when you talk about these things with a girl, there is something in our subconscious that starts to believe it, even though we know what is happening. So the fact that he was able to live in the now, just for this moment, meant that I was able to as well. It meant that I could wake up the next day without feeling let down, or without feeling feeling disappointed and not knowing why I was feeling that way.
He was sweet talking without talking bullshit. Of course he was saying what he knew he needed to say, but I was happy to play along knowing that we would enjoy the night together and I wasn’t holding onto false promises of a future together that was never going to happen.
4. He was so proud fo be with me
How good does it make you feel when someone is proud to be standing by your side? Mr European took my hand and beamed with pride as we left his bar and he waved to all his colleagues. While I was sitting there waiting for him to change after work, another male staff member came up to me at kissed my hand before Mr European appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, in a bulging display of masculinity, to give him a playful shove and assure him I was taken.
On our way back to the apartment after our drinks, we bumped into a group of his friends. He spotted them from a while off and asked me if it was ok if we went to say hi. He proudly introduced me and pulled me in close to his side while having a quick chat to his friends. He took my hand again and whisked me away into the night. Of course this was also a masculine display of ownership and a way for him to gloat over his mates. But what a preferential display over times in the past where I have literally been shoved aside and hidden from view by men who were ashamed to be seen with me.
5. Giving and gracious
Without going in the the details I said I wouldn’t, he was a very giving lover. He ensure I was satisfied, and spent time touching every inch of my body to ensure I felt attended to.
When it came time to go, I was perfectly fine to watch him walk out of the door without exchanging any details, but he thought otherwise. In an attempt which I thought, at the time, was purely to resolve himself of guilt, he asked for my facebook details. I didn’t have the heart to say, ‘what’s the point’. But within the hour he had sent me a message, saying he hoped I had enjoyed the night. Again; no promise of a future rendezvous, just a decent person making a decent effort of doing the right thing. I appreciated it greatly, and fell into the peaceful post-orgasmic sleep of a woman who had a wonderful night, and wasn’t fed bullshit lies that would leave her feeling used and lied to in the morning.
Ultimately? Pure perfection. And a wonderful ending to this year’s visit to my favourite city.
Get yo ass to Rome xx