Just remember the desire

The train you take that night from Milan to home, even if outside is dark and you cannot distinguish a thing but only your own shadow reflected on the window, nothing is more poetic than the thought of a new-born romantic feeling experienced for someone. Perhaps the most romantic person that Sunday evening is you as what nourishes that melancholic yet beautiful feeling is your courage facing the uncertainty. What is the most admirable is that you do not have any fear. You are not scared of getting burned. You embrace the day spent together with him, with joy and grace and no fear. No plan. All you have is desire. Your desire. This irrational “thing” that people usually want to figure out very quickly as soon as they “feel” something for someone.

Your desire for him is the only constant variable since the day you first met him. The desire that functions like a huge machine, that works for itself, that feeds and gives energy to the rest.

You assume your desire. You never need to justify your desire or to kill it with moral or social boundaries. You do not want to be sad. To kill your desire is to be sad. The kind of sadness that usually impedes people to live fully their emotions.

You just want to live your desire for him. During this long train trip, you see your shadow on the window but also your desire. Its outlines are sharp. You see the day spent with him like a movie, with scenes after scenes of desires. A movie in which there are not necessarily any images of him and you. Only the vivid memory, and the perfume of the desire transformed when possible in kisses and sensual touches. The kisses have the perfume of what you both love most, the white truffle.

You live your desire in Milan endlessly. That is an unique experience. Something you will always remember. What should come after does not matter. How you both go back to your lives and how you both live apart will not matter. Just remember the desire.

He is back

He is back.

He is back.

He is back. How come he is your inspiration and now this is all you can write? He is back in your city. The moment he writes to you from the airport to tell you that he is back, you lose all the capacities of normal functioning. This week you forget three umbrellas in the train. Yesterday you went to work without your wallet, you had to go back home to get it. But you still feel like it is normal to be this way. You are in the clouds. Your rational mind still denies that you have feelings. Having feelings ? You laugh out loud. If this is just having feelings for someone, then being in love would be what? How many umbrellas will you forget in the train if you were in love? How many times you would have to go back home because you would forget again and again your wallet?

He is back. First thing he writes to you. He tells you he is in a festive mood. He says that Milan was great but too short. He calls you a romantic nerd. He reads your blog. He says you make him happy. You stop the whatsapp exchanges first as your small heart is too weak for such emotions.

He is back. The idea that he is a few miles away is totally extravagant, crazy, insane, exciting, romantic, poetic, inhuman. How come just knowing that he is back and not too far from you could procure such emotions and joy. Who knows the answer?

He is back. And it is not a dream you have in the middle of the night.

The struggle

In the early stage of being in love, you struggle. The rational in you would ask the same question again and again: is it worth loving him?

You analyze the relationship and give yourself a thousand of reasons to escape from your love for him. You struggle because in your rational thinking you could not give one reason that tells you to keep on loving him. The absence, the unavailability, the uncertainty, the impossibility of a future together, any reason is good to stop your feelings for him. You struggle because, on the other hand, there are another thousand of reasons that do not give a damn about your rational analysis. But these reasons are purely romantic, emotional, poetic and they have nothing to do with the reality.


In the early stage of being in love, you want to reject him, you even want to hate him for being so perfect, up to the point that you cannot resist him. The person with whom you fall in love is just amazing and unique, yet you are tormented and feel the need to escape from that love. The struggle does not come from fear, at least not yet. The struggle is a reaction to something too strong for you at the moment to handle. The minutes, the hours, the days after you fall in love, you already regret. But as much as this feeling tortures you from inside, there would still be this floating exquisite feeling. The feeling that reminds you of his kisses, his voice, his gazes.


The struggle lasts long as both your rational mind and the memories of him are powerful. They are inside you in equal strength. The moment you think of his kisses, your inner rationality reminds you of his absence. And it keeps on living in you. During the time of struggle, there will be no room for other feelings or other persons. Love. No more love. Love. No more love. Until saturation. Until exhaustion. Who is gonna win ? You have no idea. The only thing you know is he occupies your mind day and night. Until saturation. Until exhaustion.

24 hours in Milan or the G. experience – Part three: the dinner

Yesterday evening you accepted a dinner date. Last Saturday you were in Milan with him. At the exact same time, a week ago, you were falling in love with him. How come you accepted this dinner date.

You have no choice. Either you stop living and keep on waiting for him or you keep on loving him, without waiting and keep on living your life. The long-distance between you and him. The Covid situation with all borders locked down one week after another. His work. Your work. His free-spirit. Your free-spirit.

The date was not bad. It was just meaningless for you. There was nothing to compare to last Saturday when you were with him in Milan. He was so happy you picked the right Osteria in the Old Town, small, authentic. You sat outside. The weather was still perfect for being outside. He ordered plenty of food. He was like a kid. He held your hands during the whole dinner. He ate with one hand so he could hold your hand with the other. He asked you about your childhood, told you about his. He asked you about your dreams, your goals. He told you about his dreams, if he still had some. He said he felt lonely travelling around for work. He said he did not have a social life and did not really care. He said he have you when he arrives each time in the city where you live. He ordered three desserts. He made you try the mousse au chocolat and the tiramisu. He said you could eat whatever you want you have a perfect body.

His eyes were smiling with you. He always knows exactly how to make you melt. But he does not play with it and plan it. It is just the way he is. He looked at you so intensely at dinner that sometimes you could not bear his gaze. Sometimes you had to look somewhere else.

After dinner, you walked around the Old Town. Your hands were in his. He stopped at almost every corner of the street to kiss you. His lips were delicious. There was still a bit the taste of red wine. You let your head on his shoulder while walking. You remember he told you once that the people he loves are invited to join him in his modest journey of life. That evening you were certainly part of these people.

To love him is to accept the absence, to accept the ups, to accept the downs. To accept intense emotions and pain when he is away. But what could you do else ?

Yesterday you went on a dinner date to survive. On the way home you promised yourself not to survive that way again. Your heart is too small and you only have space for him. Even though he is more often absent than present. But a thousand dates like yesterday would never equal one dinner with him.

You go home. Your head and heart full of him. Your decision: loving him, not waiting for him, keep on living your life, but not going on dates anymore. Your heart tells you so.

Worse-case scenario

One week after Milan. You survive. The longing for him is definitely less. The missing him is a blurry feeling. The symptoms of an “infection” of him are less severe. Transformed into a permanent serious illness: love sick.

You are sick. Love sick. Love him. Loss of appetite. Bored with people. Only want to see him. Only want to touch him. Have you just said that the symptoms are less severe ?

How are you gonna get cured of this illness ? You have no idea. Is there any remedy? Lock up your heart right now ? Isn’t it too late ? Walk away ? Never see him again ?

Or just let yourself being sick? Worse case scenario: you lose weight. It could be a good thing. Worse case scenario: you write more poems as you are inspired by him. Worse case scenario: you play more music as the music always reminds you of him. Worse case scenario: you tell him that you love him and he already knows so it will not change anything.

Love him to the fullness and wait for the worse case scenarii.

It is too late to doubt…

“This endured absence is nothing more or less than forgetfulness. I am, intermittently, unfaithful. This is the condition of my survival” (Roland Barthes)

In the early stage of being in love, moments of uncertainty are numerous and hit you in different shapes. There are moments of longing, when your body feels no energy, the only energy left you seem to have is the thought of him. And even so, your brain gets tired of this only, repetitive thought of him. You miss him and your body is aching. Soon even your body is tired of missing him. But the memories of those moments spent with him the last 19 months and in Milan still work.

Your brain is almost out of battery. Your body almost numb. In uncertainty and fatigue, like a miracle, the love you feel for him is still so vivid. While your body carrying physically this pain and longing for love, and missing him for days seems to want to let this love go, there is still something else remaining. And that, that is the love itself. How to explain it? You cannot explain it.

The love you feel for him is outside of what your brain can sustain and of what your body can carry. Have you ever thought of that kind of feeling ? This love that belongs to nothing, nowhere, detached from everything. It is simply love in its pure form. Like uncut cocaine. Should we compare.

The moment you think you are too tired to think of him. Your thoughts for him are still there, hanging above you, looking at you. Triumphant.

Love and doubts go together, people say that. They go together but they function separately. Doubt as much as you can, it will not change the love you have already felt for him.

You know it. One second. Just that one second. All you need to fall in love.

In the early stage of being in love, there are doubts but mostly there is the love that is already there. You hope that when you doubt, when you ask yourself why you fall for him, you will love him less or stop loving him, or waking up, finding yourself silly to have falling for him. What you do not know is that it is too late. You doubt to survive. You know that you already give him your heart. When he came to Milan to join you, doubts are superflous. Doubts are made for survival.

24 hours in Milan or the G. experience – Part two: the Prosecco

After the longest kiss of the history of kissing, he asks what you would like to drink. You ask for a Prosecco. He knows you do not drink a lot. He is surprised you even order alcohol. Every time at his place, you never even finish a small glass of wine. You have wine just to say Cheers to him.

You sit next to him. The Swiss Corner is all white with design furniture. A long white bar in the middle. Upstairs is the Swiss Embassy. You joke that you two are too Swiss that even abroad the appointment is in a Swiss place. The waiter brings plenty of food with the drinks. It is Italy. Fabulous Italy.

He speaks a perfect Italian. He asks about your three days in Milan, in details he wants to know what you were doing. He looks at you while you are talking. His deep blue eyes. He holds your hand. You touch from time to time his silver bracelet. The colour of silver enhances the colour of his tanned skin. You kiss him on the cheek. He kisses you back. You put your head on his shoulder. You have not been that tender and sweet to any man for the last five years. You feel comfortable, airy, happy. You trust him. You feel peaceful. You ask him about his journey, if he got bored on the train.

You are like a cat, getting closer and closer to his master. You like his smell. You put your nose in his neck. He kisses your hair. People look at you. People smile. People smile to your happiness. In the time of Covid, he makes you feel like nothing else would happen to you or anyone else in this world. You feel safe with him. It is just 5pm. You do not want the evening to start. 5pm forever. Aperitivo forever.

When you finish the Prosecco and stand up, you feel tipsy. You tell him. He says that is because you are not used to alcohol and it is normal as Prosecco is also very sweet. You do not tell him but you know that it is not because of the Prosecco that you are tipsy. It is because of him. His smell. The texture of his hair when you caress it with your fingers. The skin of his hand when you caress it with your cheek. These small things from him that make you tipsy. Not the Prosecco. Do not blame the Prosecco.

24 hours in Milan or the G. experience – Part one: the arrival

“Am I in love? Yes, since I am waiting. (..) Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn’t wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late, but I always lose at this game. Whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lover’s fatal identity is precisely this: I am the one who waits.” (Roland Barthes).

This is very subjective guide to how to spend 24 hours in Milan with the man with whom you are going to fall in love.

You know he will arrive in the afternoon around 4pm. At lunch time you are not hungry. You want to do some more visits of museums before he arrives. But your head is already somewhere in the clouds. So you end up sitting at the Café Fernanda of the Pinacotheca di Brera, a beautiful palazzo museum. You sip very slowly your cappucino, it has never been more delicious than this particular cappucino, it’s the capuccino of the day you will meet him. He sends you his location. The closer he gets to Milan, the faster your heartbeats. Even when his train stops somewhere in the middle and has a few minutes late, and he sends you again his location, even then your heart aches. He asks where you want to have dinner. He wants you to choose. He says he has a list of restaurants recommended by his friends but he will follow you anywhere you want to go.

You give him the name of the hotel where to join you. You were already in Milan a few days before his arrival. You tell him that you would leave his name at the reception. When he arrives he would just need to ask for you and you will come down. He sends you a heart emoji and a happy face.

From that moment your brain stops working. You walk around the streets next to the hotel but you do not really know what you want to do. He arrives in two hours. You go back to the hotel. You take a long shower. You pamper yourself. You smell good. He sends you more live locations. He is about 30 minutes away.

At 3.30 pm you come down to the reception to wait for him. At 4:00pm he let you know he takes the cab at the station and heads to the hotel. Ten minutes drive. Your heart stops beating. The heartbeats more and more irregular. You are stressed. It is not the first date. You have known him for almost two years. But you are stressed and excited and nervous. 4.20 pm, he is still not there. Traffic, maybe. Then he calls you. He is too shy to go to the hotel and asks for your name. He tells you he waits for you at the Swiss Corner, right in front of the hotel. You tell him you will be there in less than 3 minutes. He texts you a heart emoji and a happy face.

You cross the street. Enter the Swiss Corner bar. He waives for you. He has a big smile. He has the happiest face you have never seen. He gives you a warm long hug. Then he pulls you back a bit and look at you for 10 seconds exactly. Then he kisses you. The longest kiss of the century. No, really the longest kiss of the history of kissing.

(end of Part One: the arival…….to be continued)

Lovers

tellafairytale

She always knows exactly when the cab driver is going to turn left after the intersection. Her watch shows the same time, like any other evenings when she comes to his place. The last nine months. The cab driver stops exactly in front of the address she indicates. She always rings the bell of the building at around 20:00, sometimes 20:05, sometimes 20:10. The weather could be good or bad, rainy or blue sky, she always arrives at his place around that time. She never needs to ring the bell when she reaches the 3rd floor. He always leaves the door open. The TV is most of the time turned on when she enters the apartment. Most of the time he is there, waiting for her. He has his usual smile. He always greets her in a joyful way.

Winter has arrived the last two weeks, yet, his skin still…

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There was that one second.

The third day after Italy. You wake up this morning thinking of him. Like a routine. No surprise. He is under your skin. Any small particles of your skin has a bit of something of him. The longing of his caresses and kisses is there. Not as strong as the day before. But still there.

Before you went to sleep last night, he sent you some pictures of your trip together. Without comments. Just some pictures. You replied to him with an emoji who waives a Hi. And that was about it. You are always shy. You could write to him every hour. You could send to him heart emojis. Tons of them. But you never did. Even if when he sent them to you. You answered with a smile.

Though love is not a game, you do not reveal yourself. You are always careful. You protect yourself, building a wall between him and you. And why is that? You are afraid he is not available. You are afraid things will change between you two if you open yourself up. You wish you could one day put down this wall between you two and tell him how much you care for him.

In Italy you realize you have surrendered him. In Italy when he holds your hands, walking around the Old Town, when he stopped suddenly in the middle of the street, around a corner, to kiss you. You know you have crossed the line of no-return. You could no longer protect yourself. There is this fatal second when you know you are falling in love and cannot take it back.

There is that moment when he tells you that the only person who cares about him in this world is probably you. He says this, holding your hands and looking at you. This moment lasts one second, two seconds or ten seconds, it does not matter.

Strategy. Protection. Rationality. Control. There was that one second when all of these have no more power. The brain has surrendered. One second. That is all. Like Murakami said: the rose is red, the ice is cold, I am in love.