When in doubt....

Bang a Stranger

Saturday…

Crossing over….

Turned into an adventure just like Friday did. I have now been in Rome for three weeks, grieving the life I used to have, aware that it was always fragile at best, and getting used to this underworld of emotional currents that are operating within me at all times. They swish and gather and like all energy want to travel upwards. For now I keep most at bay, but this is illusory and I know they must be soon released.

I am torn between accessing what lies hidden and walking the streets of glorious Rome. It is a collision of beauty and history and secrets and I breathe it all in. I will myself towards transcendence, kneeling and still in a 17th century basilica, but it does not work. All my tricks are failing. There is no magic happening between my brain and my desire to pour it on the page. It must be deeper and I am not there yet.

I take myself to the Opera on Thursday night and I am actually shocked at how many people are constantly on their phones. Like the super creepy guy beside me scrolling frantically through Grinder and Farm Girls Gone Wild. I try not to look at the endless parade of naked men and hot girls harvesting weird carrots and abnormally large cucumbers but it’s challenging. Thankfully the beauty of the music and candle lit theater draws me in and eventually I settle.

After, I walk home completely elated, no GPS, just me navigating Corso Vittorio Emanuele alone. It ‘s past midnight and the sky is chalky grey, smokey but still shimmering behind a full moon. It feels like happiness.

Magical Roma

So did the Bumble request I got on Friday morning. I had been alone all week and truthfully was not looking forward to another day of self exploration. My eyes get so raw and scratchy from crying and everything just starts to hurt and it scares me. My reprieve came in the form of Eric from California. He had reached out to me before I left Los Angeles and I of course ignored it. But now he was in Rome- ok random - and perhaps we could meet for lunch? A movie he wrote was being filmed in Latvia. He had been summoned to do revisions and then decided to hop over to Rome for a few days. His texts were witty, comforting and flirty. I mean what did I have to lose?

Plus there are police everywhere in my neighborhood as the Italian government happens to try a lot of the big mob bosse’s cases in an underground bomb proof courtroom a mere one hundred feet from my Airbnb. Every night is like a weird episode of The Sopranos with coffee and pastries being passed around by super hot officers attired in olive green fatigues and cute hats. The guys also carry guns and bottled water and shocker, seem to spend a lot of time on their phones.

Mr. Santa Monica arranges to meet ( safely ) outside my apartment on Via Giulia, which is where I am staying. Next door to me, at The Palazzo Sacchetti they are shooting a very elaborate Fellini like movie. I walk by the same crew every single morning and like clock work they immediately stop talking as I pass by, and stare at me between their one millionth cappuccino and cigarette break. No words, no nothing, not even a friendly Ciao Bella! So It feels really great now to have a man clearly waiting on me and how do you say in Italian, like a bit of a “fuck you” to the twenty seven men who stand outside my door and ignore me on a consistent basis.

Eric is very handsome and tall with an independent, but warm energy. He is such an antidote to all the men I have dated lately, or as I call it the ‘Rinse Lather Repeat’ set; Divorced, Rich and Fucked up. Especially the last one Neil, who fell madly in love with me twelve minutes after we first met. Neil also wrote some very unfortunate poetry. Notable highlights include;

“MJ will certainly become a habit, and the sex, well, we’ll do it like rabbits.”

He then had the audacity to double down and to my horror, set it to music.

I should have exited the program right there and then, but on paper he was handsome, successful and great in bed ( the human vibrator as my friend Rae Dawn coined him ). He seemed like a genuine contender in my search for finally being a kept woman! Weekends in Palm Beach, five hundred dollar dinners, and shopping sprees just like in “Pretty Women”, his absolute favorite movie. Unfortunately everything he did was to cover up who he really wasn’t and I most certainly had enough of that going on with me. I also wanted to poke his eyes out with a fork, suggesting that he might be triggering a whole slew of disturbances which were unhealthily churning around inside of me.

The irony was not lost that Eric made his living as a writer. We go to my local trattoria Pointe e Parione, where there is a third century column that dominates the bathroom and wine is four dollars a glass. They make homemade ravioli in the front window and it is almost impossible to spend over sixty dollars for lunch. A five hour afternoon passes by in a minute. I am actually too busy enjoying myself with him as a person to clock in if there is any chemistry. He is a breath of fresh air, intellectually challenging and open without being needy. After glass two I tell him about why I am here, in a vague way of course but for me oddly truthful; I am fractured. Glass three recaps my attempt at ‘having a well curated boyfriend,’ example Neil, a dismal failure but on the upside, apparently a budding songwriter.

And glass four is all about Marco, the Swiss Italian photographer who literally shredded my heart and self confidence into a million, billion, trillion pieces, waltzing out of my life with the single text, “I dream of you every night.” That was 18 months ago and I had not heard from him since. It was also the beginning of my initial unraveling because I could no longer read one single sign the universe was sending and it was becoming a very big problem.

Glass five for both of us resonates around what are we looking for in life? In a partner? It is also the part of the program where we both question, why didn’t we just order a bottle? At this point I revert back to Marco because I have absolutely no clue what I am looking for in a partner and instead spew out something about finding a life of purpose, which seems like a good way to punctuate the conversation. He is also noticeably quiet around the partner thing. Actually, every male I have ever talked to over fifty is very quiet around the partner thing.

Anyway, after lunch we roll over to the Palazzo Navona which is packed with people getting ready for Friday night and then decide to do a quick walk around The Pantheon. Dusk hits fast and it starts to get chilly. Before we know it we are back at my apartment where they are still shooting the movie; they are always shooting that mofo of a movie. I once again start doing a mental calculation of what the film could actually be about ( Mussolini ???)when Eric leans in to kiss me. It is hot, like crazy hot, making out in front of at least two dozen Italian men, who shockingly, are on a cappuccino break.

Staring.

This continues for several minutes just to solidify my new reputation as the neighborhood “Hoe”. We then decide to take the show indoors and I make him set a timer for 10 minutes which will officially signify the end of our date. Except it doesn’t. It’s Rome and I’m heartbroken and my bedroom has deep red walls and a view of the Tiber and it seems like a shame not to grant myself at least one resounding yes…..

Please feel free to share this post with everyone you have ever known. Grazie MJxxxx