An Italian Woman and Her Love Affairs (REPOST)

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TOP 10 – ‘A Traveller’s Tale’ Challenge
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A Repost of an old piece……together with an image for a writing challenge. I’m sure most of you have already read this.

I haven’t had that many profound and lasting love affairs.
Don’t get me wrong.
There have been plenty of men, and plenty of affairs.
But they came and they went again.
Only a small few stayed in my heart.

I have had my share of serious relationships too, for which I will be forever grateful.
Grateful for the memories and the lessons learnt.
But no-one has ever really touched my soul.

I have never really looked for Love.
I was never on my own long enough to feel the need to want Love.
Maybe that was one of my mistakes.
I never spent enough time just on my own.
I always seemed to have someone in my life.
But never the same someone for too long.
Maybe another mistake.

I always thought it was about them not wanting to commit to me.
I now realise that it was the other way around.
I never opened up enough or gave enough of the true me to commit to anyone.

There has never been just one type of man that I liked either.
I never even knew exactly what I was looking for.
I don’t think I even realised that I was searching for anyone in particular.
But I was.

I was searching for someone who could connect to my soul.
Someone who wouldn’t run after finding out my deep and dark secrets.
Someone who respected my independent journey and my very free spirit.
A partner who knew how to walk their own path, but perfectly alongside mine.
Someone who didn’t expect too much from me, or wanted me to give them my everything.
Someone who understood that staying still is an impossibility for me, and that sharing everything with just one person is more idealistic than realistic.

Everyone always said to me that I was too fussy, with expectations high in the clouds.
But I didn’t care.
I was looking for perfection!
Not the perfect person.
But someone perfect for Me.

Someone that could be my lover, but also my friend.
Someone that could stimulate my mind, but also my heart.
Someone that could satisfy my need for romance, but also connect with my spiritual energy.
A soul friend and a soul lover.

So I tried them all.
All the sterotypes.
Lots of musicians and even more artists.
The mother’s boys and a few married guys.
Aussie blokes, suit-wearing professionals, rough and tough tradesmen, and even a drug dealing bad boy somewhere in the mix.
The ones that couldn’t be serious, and the ones that committed too much.
The alcoholic, the gambler, the chauvinist, the sensitive guy.
The ones that didn’t believe in marriage and the ones that wanted to get married after one month.

And then there were the internationals.
At one point, my friends started calling me Miss United Nations.
They even had a map and each time I started dancing through another culture, they would shade in the country.
My map had a lot of shaded-in countries.

There was Mr. German and quite a few Frenchmen.
Then there was my weakness for Spaniards, other Latin men and Eastern Europeans.
There was the married Greek guy and the annoyingly loud Canadian.
The sexy one from Sweden and the even sexier one from Denmark.
(I went through a Scandinavian phase!)
The crazy American backpacker who talked too much and the rebellious Englishman.
The Chilean who taught me how to salsa my hips on the dancefloor as well as in the bedroom.
A few Brazilians and the dreamy one from Argentina.

And then there were the Italians!
A long, long list of Italians.
All of them over as quickly as they began.
But all of them intensely and passionately……… Italian!
I always said that if I ever married (which I did), he would have to be Italian (which thankfully, he is).
Only an Italian can match and understand my passion and my energy.
Only an Italian.

But one thing I did learn about myself in all of my relationships and infatuations, was that I always kept the lead and the control.
For each and every one of them, I decided when they were over.
Even before I truly understood the lesson of being responsibile for my own life.
Even when I still immaturely believed that things were done “to me” and happened “to me.”
Even then, I was already making my own choices. I was always in control of my thoughts and my actions. I always had the power over my feelings and my emotionality.

Until I met him………..

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