September, 2006. I arrive in the magical Renaissance town Urbino for my year abroad, ready to learn as much Italian as possible and to completely immerse myself in la dolce vita. My classes are all in Italian, my dorm is filled with Italians and I quickly make friends with the other Erasmus (European study abroad students) so we can all together be in love with Italy.
We were all headed to the piazza for a night out when English friend Jess and I heard some Italians playing their guitars and singing in a dorm room. I just had to go in and say hi, so I dragged Jess with me and of course, being twenty-something Italian boys they were more than thrilled to invite us out with them that night! More than thrilled. It wasn’t until they discovered that I had a boyfriend back in the states that their excitement faded, and they began to ignore me completely. On our way out we all smashed into their tiny European car and with the windows down and Violent Femmes blasting we rode through Urbino. “Wait!” One of them said, “we have to pick up Manu!”
He couldn’t have been less interesting to me, even though he scooched right in next to me and started chatting my ear off as we drove to town. The other boys had all scattered once they knew I was taken, but he stayed, all night by my side, and we talked about everything. I thought he was funny, I guess, but I was eh about him. He took my number and I, feeling completely non threatened, gave it to him.
Every morning he’d send me messages, “Buongiorno principessa!” and we'd always end up bumping into each other, despite our different faculties at the University and our different dorms. He quickly became my life line, teaching me so much Italian and giving me little cultural tidbits during our walks into town or our run-ins at the jazz bar for aperitivo. He knew I had a boyfriend and that I was only interested as a friend, but he didn't give up on me.
My mom came to visit in November, and we spent the weekend in Rome. She frequently reminded me that my "real" boyfriend had failed to contact me even once while this Italian boy had been sending me messages left and right. One stood out, "Buongiorno principessa! How are you doing in the capital with your lovely mom? I'm sick but it's OK! One day is even and one day is odd! Have fun little star!" When I read it to her she was shocked at how optimistic, sweet and well, like me, he sounded. She gave me cough drops to give to him when I got back.
Over that winter break, I went home and things came to an end with the American boyfriend. As we said our goodbyes, I admit that the image of Manu, cheerful and attentive, came rushing to mind. During the journey back to Urbino he was all I could think about - the fun dinner parties he threw in his room for his friends, the loyalty, patience and respect he always showed to me, his general cheer - it hit me like a ton of bricks and I remember saying, out loud, on the plane, "I like him. CRAP!"
Strangely enough, the fact that he was Italian never seemed like a problem. We would see each other over winter break the following year! He would come to America that summer! There was Skype! Optimism, it flowed through us like illegal drugs. And it was never a question that we would have to break up. That July, after my year in Urbino was over, he dropped me off at the airport and it was the saddest day of my life. But as we got to the terminal he said, "Don't worry, we're going to be together forever. We're going to get married one day."
My mom came to visit in November, and we spent the weekend in Rome. She frequently reminded me that my "real" boyfriend had failed to contact me even once while this Italian boy had been sending me messages left and right. One stood out, "Buongiorno principessa! How are you doing in the capital with your lovely mom? I'm sick but it's OK! One day is even and one day is odd! Have fun little star!" When I read it to her she was shocked at how optimistic, sweet and well, like me, he sounded. She gave me cough drops to give to him when I got back.
Over that winter break, I went home and things came to an end with the American boyfriend. As we said our goodbyes, I admit that the image of Manu, cheerful and attentive, came rushing to mind. During the journey back to Urbino he was all I could think about - the fun dinner parties he threw in his room for his friends, the loyalty, patience and respect he always showed to me, his general cheer - it hit me like a ton of bricks and I remember saying, out loud, on the plane, "I like him. CRAP!"
Strangely enough, the fact that he was Italian never seemed like a problem. We would see each other over winter break the following year! He would come to America that summer! There was Skype! Optimism, it flowed through us like illegal drugs. And it was never a question that we would have to break up. That July, after my year in Urbino was over, he dropped me off at the airport and it was the saddest day of my life. But as we got to the terminal he said, "Don't worry, we're going to be together forever. We're going to get married one day."
And on that so-romantic-it-hurts note, I'm happy to say that "one day" is only a week away.




















