The Turn Off

The guy I have been seeing, D. had invited me to spend this weekend at the beach. He drove me to a Bed and Breakfast in Bibbona, a small city situated in the province of Livorno. People say that Livorno é vero (it is true). It is the real Tuscany. It was: A nice, sleepy, Tuscan town, with no tourists; the perfect place to get away for a weekend break.

Bibbona, Livorno

Because we had been dating less than a month I was a bit hesitant to spend a weekend with him, but the invitation to relax on sand and be tanned by the sun was tempting. So I accepted.

We drove about an hour and half east of Florence. We exited the highway at the zone called La California. It is named after the American state because years ago, Southern Italians were dropped off on this land, duped into thinking they had just arrived to the United States.

They were taken on a boat, sailed up and in a circle around the Italian shore. After a month long voyage, they were let out with a “Congratulations, you made it to California,” when in actuality they just sailed up the Italian coast. Poor souls, how did they know the difference?

When people tell me that story, they never say if the Southerners figured out that they spent their lifesavings on a boat trip to Northern Italy. Surely they must have known something was not right.

When we arrived I did not think anything was wrong. After we settled our things in the room we drove about five minutes to the shore.

I was happy for two things — I could freely bath topless and eat fresh fruit, with an intelligent, sexy guy stretched out next to me. So make those three things that made me happy.

Before the trip, he had asked me what I liked to eat on the beach. I thought that was a sweet gesture. Everything I asked for he brought — peaches, grapes, cheese and watermelon; however at one point, while sunbathing, I felt that I had come there alone.

The umbrella I laid under sums up the irony of the weekend.

Things started when we returned back to the room. One minute, everything was flowing. There was a rush. I was on go, completely lost in his kisses and touch. Then I heard a voice.

“Mmm, Natalie . . .”

Stop. No. I don’t want to hear it; I don’t want to hear it. The words that came next were the beginning of a complicated conversation that should never have taken place. To have the discussion about the definition of our “relationship” and “expectations” so early in the game spoiled everything.

I do not speak in code and being that I do not speak perfect Italian, I had to decipher his words in two layers. I did not fully realize what he was saying until the next morning.

Now, I was stuck sharing a room with a person who indirectly confessed that he has no feelings for me. Great. It was hell. I just wanted to run out, and be alone, but I couldn’t. I was trapped for one night and one day.

“Why did you even bother bringing me here,” I asked him.

Of course he gave me some bull shit response that I purposely did not even bother to pay attention to. Because really, is there any response that would satisfy me? For some reason, which he only knows, he decided to close his heart.

The worst of it is that we had to go through the ritual of the vacation. I think maybe he thought he was being polite, but really it was one of the worst weekends I have had since I have moved to Florence.

Before the trip I was receiving romantic messages such as “tonight I will dream of you beautiful,” “Good night beautiful,” “Beautiful, I want to see you today,” always ending with a kiss.

The most confusing message is “Ti voglio bene.” What does this mean? Translated in English, it literally means “I want good for you.” My friends and relatives said it is a term of affection and has some worth. Others have told me that it is a term of love, but not full blown I love you.

So when it was said to me the first time, I thought “that’s nice, but maybe a bit too fast.” The second and third time, I began to think that maybe this man was serious.

Now, on this vacation D. was trying to back pedal. He said he uses this term with everyone, his mother, his grandmother and even his roommate. And he calls everyone beautiful.

I know Italian men lavish women with romantic terms. Hell, even the guy who hands me my free paper on the sidewalk, calls me over with a “Ciao bella.” But, when words are mixed in with kisses, acts of kindness and long conversations, a girl cannot help but think this may, I stress may, lead into something.

In this relationship, I could not even dream. He brought reality in before the relations began. In the end, I was the one to blame for interpreting the words and messages with significance. And I was the one who was taking things too fast.

When I returned from this trip my roommate Francesca said Ti voglio bene could have meaning or it could be a term that a person just uses; like a decoration on a Christmas tree. It’s just there, no purpose really but to look nice. I should have checked with her first.