And now… The Italian

CTRL+A, DEL

Over and over I hit those commands as I attempt to write an entry to introduce the Italian. Even through text I manage to exude giggles and butterflies. I feel like a teenager when I talk about him and everyone seems to notice.

We met on my most recent flight home. June… something. 3rd? I don’t know. I get so mixed up with all those stupid time and date changes. Anyway. I was sitting there, minding my own business, when a flight attendant pulls a cart of food to the front of the plane to serve breakfast. I’m sitting on the aisle in the second row so he’s standing right in front of me as he waits for a co-worker to bring up the cart of beverages.

I’m single and my biological clock has taken on the cadence of the 60 Minutes ticker. This has caused me to become a complete pig. When I see a man, any man, anywhere, under any circumstances, one of two thoughts pops into my head: 1) "I’d do him" or 2) "Not interested." (look, I never claimed to be classy, okay?)

I see him and immediately think, "I’d do him." My glance in his direction lingers and I begin to take in his features. He’s short, but stocky. Solid. Exactly the build I love. (okay, maybe short doesn’t top my list, but stocky totally makes up for it) I find myself visually ripping his clothes to shreds when I realize he’s caught me staring at him. I blush and look away, but my eyes are uncontrollable and they return to his figure. We repeat this dance at least two more times until he finally reaches my seat and asks what I would like for breakfast. I resist the urge to say, "You," and instead ask where his accent is from.

Why do I ask people this? They will inevitably ask me where I think it’s from and I will inevitably make an ass of myself with a guess that highlights my existence as a clueless American. But I have to engage this man in conversation and I can think of no other way. He of course wants me to guess. I throw out Brazil. He says, "I am from Italy, but I have been living in Spain so my accent is lazy." I tell him I would listen to him read the dictionary. (yeah, I threw out that cheesy line — SO SUE ME!)

I tell him that I want to work for Emirates (my poor, dead dream) and he tells me to come back to the kitchen when they’re done serving breakfast and we’ll chat. He’ll give me some tips. I can think of nothing else for the next hour. Of course, it doesn’t take that long to serve breakfast but I start chickening out immediately. I can just picture myself getting back there, locking eyes, smiling at him and then having that stupid "fasten seat belt" sign turn on. The mere thought of him telling me to go back to my seat made me feel like a schoolgirl dumped on prom.

I finally screwed up every ounce of courage and made my way back to the kitchen. And he wasn’t there. WHAT THE HELL?! There was however a bitchy (and subsequently helpful) guy who greeted me with a curt, "What do you want?" I was so shocked by his tone that I put on my most cheerful smile and said, "Advice!" I hadn’t thought of an excuse so I told him the truth. I wanted to apply to Emirates and was hoping to get some advice from the cabin crew. We chatted for a bit and I returned to my seat thoroughly disappointed.

It turns out the Italian was sleeping. Because it’s such a long flight they get a four-hour rest break. Thanks for letting me know!! Oh well, whatever. He eventually brought me back to the galley and I talked to most of the crew about life in the industry and how to break in. It was fun and informative and I was grateful for the info, but eventually I returned to my seat. For the remainder of the 16-hour flight he would find the most ridiculous excuses to come talk to me: "What book are you reading?" "What movie are you watching?" "What are you writing on your laptop?" He brought me chocolates from first-class and just all sorts of silly but completely adorable things of that nature. He had suggested early on that he’d give me his info and we could keep in touch in case I had any questions about Emirates. I resisted the urge to completely defile him in that moment and instead said that would be great, though it seemed to be one of those things that would happen, "At some point." A few hours later he came to my seat to remind me that he needed to give me his contact information. An hour-ish later, he came to tell me again. Then he showed up a third time and point-blank told me to come back to the galley so he could just give me his freaking info already! Which made me both laugh and feel like an idiot. I genuinely had no idea he had meant for me to follow him before.

So I get to the back and it’s just… awkward. Because he’s just so clearly hitting on me and all of his co-workers are RIGHT THERE. It’s not like you can have much privacy when there’s only about enough space to breathe on each other. He grabs a napkin (which, hi! I’m a nerd and still totally have) and writes down his email. And his Facebook. And his Skype. And his whatsapp. LOL He gives me every possible way to get in touch with him, save for his mobile because it doesn’t work stateside. I take the napkin, try to ignore the watchful eyes of his fellow cabin crew members, and return to my seat. Shortly before we land he comes back to my seat with a pen and a napkin and asks for my contact information ‘in case I lose his’. HA!!!! He’s just too.damn.cute.

I’m so glad we talk via Skype because we haven’t yet had a conversation under two hours. I would not want to see that cell phone bill. He’s just… *sigh* I have no freaking words.

I’m trying desperately not to put too much pressure on this budding relationship, but I’m sure you can tell by the tone of my post that I’m failing miserably. Maybe I’m just high because we talked last night. I have no idea.

I haven’t seen him in person since we met. We went out for drinks that next night, but everything else has been via email, Facebook, or Skype. We both hoped that he would be here this month, but they didn’t schedule him for any American flights. He invited me to Egypt for a week at the beginning of the month, but I’ve done so much traveling lately and I still have so much more on the docket that it really wasn’t an option. But ohhhhhhh how I wanted to say yes.

We’re both hoping that he’ll be assigned an LA flight in August, but  I’ll be spending half the month in Hawaii so I’ll be heartbroken if he’s here while I’m not. Even if that turns out to be the case, he’s already agreed to visit me in Bahrain come September. So one way or another I’ll see him in person in a matter of weeks.

Just typing this all out has gotten me so incredibly high on the thought of him. Jeebus.