Lest you picture me riding around in a red convertible in Italy, my hair held back with a vintage scarf, my Italian lover winding around curves on the coast…let me just give you an update.
The Italian Fantasy came to an end.
I don’t know that I could have expected it to last. Fantasies are, by definition, things that are impossible or improbable. So it would have ended for one reason or another.
The reason? We wanted different things for our futures. It was one of those conversations when you realize you simply can’t continue together because, sooner or later, those dealbreakers are going to take center stage.
So it was bittersweet for us both, letting go when things were just getting started.
“At least you found out now and not later,” friends tell me.
I know they’re right. But it hurt. I am grateful for it ending without disgust or frustration. I’ve been ghosted and jerked around so much by men, so it was refreshing to have things end amicably.
He reached out on Christmas Eve to wish me well. I’m glad we can still be friendly. After all, he took me by surprise and whisked me off of my feet in one of the most romantic countries in the world.
That’s a story I’ll be telling my grandchildren…