23. The Italian – Not So Stallion
TWENTY-THREE
The Italian – Not So Stallion
Sunday, 25 August, 10.30am
Feeling better today and less sorry for myself. And things are looking up at the hotel. Made it to breakfast this morning, but was a bit tearful over my scrambled eggs. I noticed the solo man at the next table was watching me. He reminded me of Stanley Tucci – not classic good looks, but there was something attractive about him.
‘Why are you crying? You’re too beautiful to cry,’ he said in a sexy Italian accent.
I thanked him for the compliment and told him it was a matter of the heart and I’ll be OK. He was charming and sympathetic, and we chatted for a while.
‘What you need is a relaxing day by the sea. I know a secluded beach off the tourist trail where you can get a natural tan. Why don’t you join me there later?’ he asked.
It has to be better than another day of moping in my room. So that’s what I’m going to do this afternoon.
Monday, 26 August, 5.00am
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse. It’s like I forced myself to think of the worst things I could do to make me even more miserable, and then did them.
My taxi driver gave me a lecherous look when I gave him the address of the beach yesterday afternoon. It didn’t take long to understand why. My Spanish isn’t great but even I could work out what ‘Playa Nudista’ meant. Before I could turn back, my Italian friend spotted and beckoned me. I sat next to him in my sarong, clutching my bag and trying to keep my gaze above his waist.
First Worst Thing: The Italian used his ample Roman charm to persuade me to go nude, flattered my ego with compliments, made me laugh, and then invited me back to his room for afternoon delight. I accepted. If I’m being honest, all I could think was, yes I’m going to have sex and that’ll show THO. Revenge sex will be sweet. Or so I thought.
Back in his room, our suntan lotion and sand-covered bodies entwined, and I started to enjoy myself. But when we tried to move on from foreplay, it ended in him looking shell-shocked and saying, ‘That’s never happened to me before,’ and me rushing out half-dressed. Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong? I felt undesirable and unwanted. I couldn’t even have revenge sex with an Italian Stallion.
Second Worst Thing (the worst, worst thing): Went to meet Ace after his concert, had too much to drink and started sobbing again, so Ace took me to a quiet corner to calm me down. He ordered coffee to sober me up, but I still had a glass of wine in my hand and carried on drinking. He consoled me while I cried on his shoulder and prattled on.
Then I looked up and into his eyes, and I don’t know what came over me. He was being so nice and protective, and I was upset, and needed comforting. I kissed him. On the mouth. And I think he kissed me back ever so slightly, but I can’t be sure. When I pulled away, I was already feeling ashamed of my behaviour and regretting what I’d done.
He looked at my anguished expression, stroked my cheek with the back of his hand and said, ‘It’s OK. Everything’ll be fine.’
What was he supposed to do? Push me off? He’s too lovely to do that. I came to my senses, ran out and went back to my hotel as he called after me to go back. What have I done? I can’t face him today. Will go to the airport early before he has a chance to come to me. I’m so ashamed.
11.30am
On flight home. I cannot believe yesterday. First, I managed to make an Italian Stallion go limp. Then, as if that humiliation wasn’t enough, I went and ruined things with Ace. I don’t want to lose him as a friend and I’m afraid he’ll be uncomfortable around me now. I texted him before I left.
I’m so sorry. I should never have done that. I’m all over the place. Will you forgive me? Can we just forget it and never mention it again? Please?
He took ages to reply, or it felt like ages.
No need to apologise Phia. We’re good. xx
I don’t deserve him. He should be shouting at me for getting out of control and putting him in a difficult position. Thank God his flight is tomorrow. I couldn’t have coped with two and a half awkward hours in the air together.
Tuesday, 27 August, 11.30pm
Grace came over to give me the lowdown on what Leila had told her on Saturday. Apparently, Jude has convinced her that he hasn’t been unfaithful. She remembered that night back in January when he disappeared for a few hours. He’d come home and said he’d been to the cinema, and she believed him.
‘He said Izzy must have mixed him up with someone else. Can you believe it?’ Grace said. ‘And … she said you’ve made passes at him several times. She’s upset about that and waiting for you to apologise to both of them.’
Once I stopped screaming, Grace said she thought Leila was fooling herself. ‘She knows the truth deep down, of course she does, but she’s not going to admit it. I’m so disappointed in her. She’s lost all judgement.’
‘She’s upset? More like delusional. If she thinks I’m apologising to that little shit, she’s really lost it.’
‘And … sorry, but she said she wants her Versace top back.’
Good to know she values her Versace top more than our friendship. When I got home, I stomped around, banged a few doors and smashed the Abigail Ahern vase she’d given me for my birthday. Then I found the silk Versace top I’d borrowed from her a few months back. I cut off the straps and shredded the hem. I put the pieces in an envelope, stuck all the stamps I had on it and posted it to Leila before I could change my mind.
Feeling sorry for myself on all fronts and could do with some TLC. I want to go to Mum and Dad’s but don’t want them to see me like this. Will ask Irene and Ana if I can visit them for a couple of days.
Wednesday, 28 August, 11.30pm
No text from Ace. He probably hates me for putting him in such an awful position. I keep remembering how he sat there as I threw myself at him. Too nice to push me away. I hope to God I haven’t ruined our friendship.
I’ve eaten two sharing bags of black pepper Kettle crisps and a box of four (full size) mint Magnums. I’m going to die sad and lonely AND fat. At least the cats will have a feast. To top it all off, my neighbour opposite was at the window with little Jessica in her arms looking at a bird in the tree outside. They saw me on the sofa, in my underwear, and surrounded by crisp packets, ice cream wrappers, and empty cocktail cans. Jessica waved. I really must replace the broken blind.
P.S. Is it terrible of me to admit I quite enjoyed the kiss?