Three Times and It Is Over

Over a small meal in a little trattoria near Sant’Ambrogio square my Tuscan male friend unconsciously admitted his dating rule — “third date, no sex, you’re out.”

He and I always have honest conversation, but sometimes I think he forgets that I am a woman and I cannot always handle what men really think and do.

With my friend it is easy to speak frankly as adults and I can tell him when I have had more than I can handle. I do treasure being let in on the male rules of dating.

This evening, we dominated the restaurant with our sex and gender chatter. There was one lonely man in the corner, occasionally grunting for no reason and old man sitting at a table diagonal from my friend’s back. They either listened to us with curiosity or annoyance.

We are both single so when we meet, we exchange a brief rundown of our love life. Tonight was his turn to divulge. He said something, which I cannot remember now, that prompted me to ask this: “You would stop dating a girl if she didn’t sleep with you by the third date?”

His immediate response was “yes.”

My mouth dropped. Seeing my reaction and realizing what he just said, he began to change his answer. But I begged him to stick with the truth.

“Unless there is some reason, like if she does not believe in sex before marriage or something, I would not, but otherwise . . .”

But otherwise she gets the ax. He explained that if there is nothing deep between him and her, than there is only sex, and if there is no sex, there is no point. So much for getting to know someone.

In Florence, where tourists and students from all over the world arrive with an idealistic image of the “Latin Lover,” and do things they would not normally consider while slaving over their corporate job or studies back home, the Italian men have an international buffet of one-stands and short term flings.

My outlook on the city is completely different now that I live here compared to how I viewed the city in 2007 during my four-month study. I was more open to meeting people and men. I think twice about whom I date, and try to weed out the ones who are only looking for play now that I live here.

When I heard this rule, many men flashed through my mind and I tried to remember what happened on all my third dates.

I felt like Sally in “When Harry Met Sally,” when she learned over lunch that Harry used the excuse that he had to clean his andirons to make an escape from women’s beds. I jokingly told him that now that I have this information if we ever dated I will wait well past the third date, that is if he wouldn’t dump me first.