In elementary school, in the ravine apron Black synthetic, my heart throbbed for just that Giampaolo Trombetta. We ran to the recreation hall in front of the classroom, and my girlfriend Laura and I watched him laughing with shame. It seemed to me beautiful, proud in her short black apron, with white collar embroidered with blue and yellow boats. If I think I now rise to tears by what I think I'm stupid. But you know, they are open secrets; entries run fast, from mouth to mouth, even among children. The Trombetta heard of it. Changed attitude. I watched often bloated with air, and I felt faint. Days went by and I became timid, always ran and hid in the bathroom of the females, during recess. Finally one day he took his courage in both hands and crossed the threshold of the women's bathroom, between giggles and screams and came straight at me, took my hand and said, "Eleanor, I love you!" It was the same red that seemed to explode from a moment. There, that was the exact moment that I do not give him anything. In short, ruined my nice game. There was nothing he could do, it could not replace everything. For me it ended there, while he was pining for.
in middle school was one of a class and offer this Alfio De Battisti, who told me I was behind.
Gee! What to do?
It was not too bad, tall, short brown hair (at the time the mothers I did not leave the house with the long hair disheveled el'orecchino, at least in males), thin. Not a cool mind you, but not a nerd. He was
the halls and staring at me, without hesitation, without shame, without shame.
And to me, the simple fact that he expected something from me, I keep an eye on that short, I went down.
One day he came to ask me out, me and him, on Saturday afternoon.
yells in his face that made me shit and you do not afford more than stare at me. Hello hello
Alfio.
In eighth grade instead moved into my class Daniele Della Volpe, ah yes, a real cool one. Of those for which all
sbavaccano and that inspires admiration and looks intent, accompanied by sighs.
I liked a lot and a little '. Every so often during the lessons I observed, the laying broken, chipped T-shirts, sneakers firmatissime, the tuft light brown eyes green.
But I would die rather than talk to him. In short, I was a nobody, he was the cool of the class. One who already smoke outside the school, not little.
One Saturday my mother picks me up at school. My sister was sick because I was not there. Not bad, for I walked home, hump under my backpack Invicta, when a Fiesta me with the horn blaring. I turn and see him in the passenger seat and an older boy at the wheel.
"We give you a lift? I live near you. "
And how does acciderbolina Daniele Delle Volpi know where I live?
swallow a ton of saliva.
"No, thanks. I'd rather walk "
I turn around and go on. He goes down.
"Then I can take you?"
"OK" just whispered.
me home. He offers me a cigarette waste. I fixed my own feet extremely interested. Sunday afternoon asking me if I'm going to belly dancing (yes, in those days you went to dance on Sunday afternoon ...)
Oh God, not know if my mom lets me.
I say yes.
Sunday afternoon then I find him there in that hole of disco.
"I was waiting," he says, and I saddled a mega kiss with the tongue that soon there will remain dry.
Ok, I got out three months with Daniele Della Volpe, then I gave up.
Why? Why did I bother going out with the cool school. All looked at me, and many hated me. I was too and he too chat area. We can only hurt him. "I wanted you," he says. Amen.
In high school, in the third school (first year), I run into a guy who introduced me to my sister, older than me, named Mauro. He says he noticed me in the course (at that time we went to do the "tanks" to the Corso Cavour, in the center), wants to know. Ok, nice. Mica I
spring type. But I liked it. He had a blond bob and was as thin as a peak. But more importantly, had the bike! Mica a hello, a one hundred twenty-five from fear, which roared to me looked like a Ferrari! Tours in the center of one hundred twenty-five Mauro, up down to Ticino. He probably had other intentions, but I did not. My mother forbids me to get on the one hundred twenty-five. End the relationship with the beautiful Mauro. And then calm, because I was a semi serious that among the lessons and essays and the study of classical ballet had little time to bullshit. Then I realize that there is Andrea.
We are in the studio one afternoon from his father and study greek together. We go out together and study instead of going back home brings me the gardens of Piazza Botta. Looks, breaths on breaths. A kiss. Son
already fallen into the net. It takes a year to tell me that was signed by the brick school. Hurrah. I learned to knit for him a green and white scarf, half a kilometer long.
were years of living together, beautiful years, shared, and youth (sigh!) evenings and nights in the company of Julius, of sexual advances ridiculous ok, but we were beginners, to study compulsive and Baci.
Then there's expectations, even demands, get my disease.
Rather than go out together was at my bedside holding my hand, or trying to reason with me and hold my exuberance thorny.
Poor Andrea! He was discharged well, not that I knew what I wanted from life, just knew it was not him. With its huge aftermath, I am aware
And then I'm game.
In Copenhagen I met a guy, tall blonde with blue eyes, short, Danish, who hid behind the thick, milky skin and dark glasses. ... His name was Death. Eh, that's right. Born April 1 to come. A date is a destiny ... a computer technician. We went out for a few weeks, but it was too "northern" so that it could work. Icy, even more than me. And then one day gives me a packet of frozen beans. Yes, you read that right. I believe that only the world ... oh well. Needless to say, single back in no time at all.
Son came home, went to live in Venice, a small apartment in Dorsoduro, something small and fabulously bohemian. I met a friend I will call Fabrizio.
penniless student of Social Sciences during the day, help baker at night. During the week I was the clerk at a notary and Sunday helped in the same baker's shop where he worked, his uncles, to Canareggio. Often at night I was with him down in the oven, I helped him a little, and laughed like crazy.
Then, as the bread and pizza baking, about three o'clock in the morning, we sat on the steps to the canal and smoke together, ate still warm brioche, between silence and confidences. We, and some drunk in passing. The night is always long.
We have been good. But in the end I had to tell him that I was not in love. We were friends, and I am happy about that.
Then there was Texas, with its endless plains dominated by endless skies, still dug in my eyes.
And then one evening, New York I'm sitting at a table in a sprawling Asian restaurant with a piece of cool to throw away his head. There 's been good, what else can I say?
I left my number without asking, because he's a gallant, I called, we began to hear often, then every evening and also every morning. And then I found myself at the turn around home in my pajamas.
That was easy I can not say, but it was nice. We discovered each other, sniffed, framed, desired.
Well, I first came to Dallas (mind you I am six hours to fly six round trip) I sent in pure white, putting him to sleep in the guest room. And I do not even have left! A saint.
But when I went to NYC he was a little taken badly. No guest room in Manhattan. I take a hotel room, then at the end, and I mentioned it.
Well, I said, is not that the other times I also especially liked ...
He smiled, without saying anything.
Ok. Well, maybe I have a problem ... I
Another smile.
the end I really changed my mind ...
And then there was The Man of Silence, I still think that if you squeeze the heart. I know that is not the case for us to come to one of the headaches that then he has behaved well, but what can I do, is not a rational choice, not now as it was then. I think it was a matter of chemistry. A look
cross every day, waiting in line for coffee. And then "Good Morning" from morning onwards. And then a meeting at lunch, an invitation to lunch, a dinner invitation. And, needless to say that he has changed coffee.
The vacuum, the pieces are left to me. Go way helped me once more, even if it caused me pain inside indescribable.
I had never even been dumped before, I never fell in love. The first time, before his eyes, only to be used and thrown.
happens to everyone, I know.
E 'happened to me.
What I meant with this post long and too personal, is that interpersonal relationships, and those with even more than others, are the most difficult thing in life that may exist. There
reflected in the eyes of others, we recognize, we find something proud, something that can fascinate or frighten us, recall or move away. We can create our authentic happiness or self destroy. It is not for us, is in a relationship for two.
It 's hard, oh if it is!
Personally, I try, I fall back and try every single day. I try hard. I examine my own pain and my joy, and then I go over, alive. Or at least I try.
And you?
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