Shawn, Italy & Vegas

Shawn was a friend of one of my close friends, let's call him Adam.  Adam and Shawn were deployed together, and Adam bought an old car with intentions of fixing it up when he came home.  Adam, Shawn, and let's call the other guy Dan, were working on the car.  Since I hung out with Adam a lot, it was easy for me to meet Shawn.

But we do need to rewind a little here.  I'm not totally sure how it all happened, but I had actually been talking to Shawn while they were deployed, via Facebook, and we met for the first time the night they got home.  I drove Adam's fiance to the base they were arriving at because family and friends had a short amount of time to visit with them before they went to demobilization, and they were arriving at 1am and she had to work the next day (I didn't).  So, I offered to make the three hour drive so she could sleep in the car.  I intended on waiting in the car, but his fiance told me to come with.  It was a freezing night in the Midwest, in January, and we had to wait outside.  As usual, I wasn't prepared for this.  I very rarely wear gloves (only when shoveling), and a hat?  No way, that doesn't look good with my hair.

Anyway, Adam and his fiance were getting coffee, and I was sitting at a table trying to take a quick nap, when there was a tap on my shoulder and I very angrily picked up my head, assuming it was Adam, and saw it was Shawn.  We had a quick conversation, he said it was nice of me to bring the fiance, and he went back to visiting with his family.  Before the soldiers left, I went outside to use the disgusting bathrooms they had set up (but still, very thankful they were there) and I heard someone yell my name.  I turned around, and it was Shawn.  We had another quick conversation, and discovered we'd probably see each other soon while he was working on the car.

Now we can fast forward.  Adam invited me out for drinks with Shawn and Dan, and I met the three guys at a bar.  We then had to go downtown to meet one of Dan's friends.  This bar was full of hipsters, annoying guys, and very strange girls.  Adam was talking with Dan and his friend, and Shawn and I drank our beers and talked in a less populated area of the bar.  We then left and went back to our area for a drink at a much better bar.  Shawn sat next to me and we laughed all night, it was weird connecting with someone like that so fast.  It felt like we were back in high school, he seemed like he was reaching for my hand, but I couldn't really tell so I didn't do anything about it.  We went back to Dan's apartment to watch a movie.  Dan went to bed, Adam left, Shawn was spending the night there (he lives an hour away) and asked if I wanted to stay and finish the movie.  We started making out, he said he'd be spending the night tomorrow night, and we made plans for an actual date.

The date went really well, we went to dinner and fooled around at the apartment, then made it official.  Shawn is now my boyfriend.  But wait!  Things don't happen that easily in my life!  I had been all set to leave for Italy (my fourth trip there) for two months.  One month to take a class and get certified to teach English, and one month to look for a job and somewhere to live.  I would then return home and start the process of moving across the Atlantic.  Shawn said he was fine with all that.  He knew about it from the beginning.  A week before I left, I was in the middle of packing and he called to say we needed to break up.  He couldn't handle being in a relationship with someone so far away, especially not knowing if I'll be coming back home for good or not.  I cried.  Yes, I broke Emma dating rule #1: Never, ever cry in front of someone that hurts your feelings.  Ever.

I was so mad at him for waiting so long to tell me this wasn't ok, and mad for him even getting into a relationship with me in the first place.  I was also mad at him for spewing out a garbage line while cuddling before falling asleep: "I don't know why, but it just feels so right with you."  I bought it.  I'll give you a moment to throw up.

Moment's over.

We ended up deciding that I'd call him during the trip and we'd talk it over then.  A few things happened to me on this trip, a week in I found out about a sick family member that would lead to my decision to come home early and not move to Italy.  Shawn didn't know about this and I never told him this was the biggest reason for my early return home.  I cut my trip short, from 8 weeks to 6 weeks, spent time traveling to Brussels and clearing my mind.  About two weeks into the trip, I called Shawn and announced my plans for coming home early.  This egotistical boy thought I was coming home early for himmadeout.  I went back to my apartment.  I never told Shawn.

Since Shawn didn't want to be with me when I got home, I figured us talking was just a friendly thing.  The night after I came home he invited me over.  I drove an hour to his house, put up all my walls, and he took them all down.  We were dating again.  Red flag: "I just don't want to be alone," came out of his mouth.  So is this about me, or you don't want to be single?  I said I wasn't going to be with him if that was the only reason for dating me, he assured me it wasn't.

A month into the relationship, he went to a strip club with some friends.  Ok, I don't care, have fun!  Less than a week later he was back there.  Ok, now I care.  I find it a bit trashy to go to strip clubs so often.  It's not like these were birthday or bachelor parties.  The first time I thought it was just a random guy's night out.  The second time, when I was upset, he informed me that a friend's family owns it and they drink for free.  They don't tip the girls!  Oh, that's so comforting.  Not.  This was a serious problem for us.  Another problem I had was how different he was around his friends.  Some of them seemed so immature.  But none of this made it important enough for me to dump him.  I had such strong feelings for the guy, and I really thought this was going to be a long term relationship.  I was falling hard for him, and the time we spent alone together was some of the best times I've ever had in my life, including all the traveling.  Was I in love?  No, but had the relationship lasted longer I probably could have been.  I've still never been in love.  Oh well.


We ended things, and I'm under the impression it was for two reasons.  He was facing a huge life change and I don't feel it's appropriate to write about, even though I've changed all the names.  The other issue was he had a problem with the hour drive between us.  I didn't ever think this was a problem.  In my mind, distance should never be an issue if two people care about each other as much as we seemed to.  I was heartbroken, and it took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that he just didn't care about me enough to deal with the distance.  As bad as it feels to realize that, it's the truth.  If I was worth it to him, we would have gotten over the distance issue.

What did I do?  Two days after my brother got married I went to Vegas with a friend.  Sorry everyone, but what happens in Vegas actually stays in Vegas in my book. :)

Shawn had started working security at the strip club.  He then called me about 3 months after the breakup, when I had just started seeing someone new, and asked me if I would ever consider getting back together.  This blew my mind.  I had been waiting for this exact phone call, but when I came home from Vegas I gave up on it ever happening. 

"You broke my heart.  I can't trust that you won't do it again.  What about the distance?"
"It doesn't matter.  But I should tell you something."

He had sex with one of the strippers.  What am I supposed to say to that?  Am I supposed to be happy for you?  Should I be more attracted to you now?  I said I would consider getting back together if he got tested for any STDs, he refused and said it was stupid.  I said, "So, you might think it's stupid, but it means a lot to me.  You can't just do it and prove that you care about what I think.  I'm not even considering dating you without it."  Needless to say, we never dated again.

But that doesn't mean I don't want to.  Here I am, almost exactly a year later, and I still miss him.  I miss laughing with him, talking to him, and I really miss falling asleep together.  We've both dated other people since then, but for me it's never been the same.  I doubt he feels the same, and I won't ask him.  That'd only be annoying and I'd only be hurting myself when he says he's happy with the girl he's seeing now.  Oh well, on to bigger and better things!

PS: The girl he's seeing now won't let him hang out with me, but when I asked for a simple STD test he wouldn't humor me.  That must say something about how much he truly cared, right?

Alessandro: Part 3

Two hot Italian guys + two charming American girls = a lot of fun on a boat in the middle of the Tyrrhenian Sea.

This was probably one of the best days ever.  The guys took us out on the boat and it was another scorching, humid day.  Of course, my curly hair was starting to get a little puffy and resemble a fro, but I didn't care (OK, I probably did care a little).  We packed a ton of fruit for lunch and we were laying on the boat tanning (OK, I was probably burning) when suddenly I'm splashed with water!  After some playful arguing, I pushed Alessandro and he jumped overboard, while holding my arm so I would go overboard, too.

That night was the festival for the San Vito, the patron saint of Positano.  We watched the fireworks together, went dancing, and fell asleep on the beach together (not like bums or anything, I'll let you use your imagination).  Mel and I went back to visit Positano again on a weekend during our classes, but we decided to stop there, it wasn't like we were going to have a transatlantic relationship with these guys or anything.  Plus, Mel actually had a boyfriend back home.  I'm not one to judge, but I wouldn't have done that.

We talked to Alessandro and Enrico almost every day, and when we came back to the United States we kept in touch via e-mail.  That was definitely one of my favorite summers, and just thinking about it is making me miss Italy like crazy, so I think I need to end this blog here.  If I don't, I'll be in a shitty mood all day because I can't decide whether I should move to Italy or not!  OK, enough Italy talk for now!

Europe 2004: Paris

The guys in Paris were nothing to brag about.  Don’t get me wrong, some of them were gorgeous, but Paris wasn’t what I was expecting.  I think my favorite memory of Paris was sitting in a café in Monmartre with one of the girls, she was sketching and I was writing.  It felt like we were recreating history, this is where famous artists and poets came for inspiration.  We were rudely interrupted by a group of guys asking if we’d like to learn how to French kiss.  Shut the front door!  They actually asked that!  We politely said we already knew how, and ignored them.  After taking a picture, of course.

The last night in Paris we were supposed to have dinner and then go to the Eiffel Tower to see the City of Lights from the top.  We were sharing a large room, and the four of us bought a few bottles of wine.  We sat in a circle, reminiscing about high school and how we were all from different groups and cliques, but here we were in Europe together.  After four girls consumed five bottles of some shitty red wine, one girl leaned over and just started throwing up.  We were obviously amateurs.  Once again, a chain reaction.  Our room was full of vomit and red vomit stained towels, and we were going to be late for dinner if we didn’t leave now.  We grabbed a bunch of plastic bags, dumped out the souvenirs, and headed for the subway.  Being drunk and figuring out the Paris metro is not a good idea.  We got lost (a common theme on that trip), ended up in what I can only imagine is a horrible neighborhood, full of strip clubs, porn stores, and middle aged, overweight hookers in fishnets winking at us.  I think I threw up everything I ate the whole trip in that street, but at least it got that group of dirty looking guys to leave us alone. 

We made it to dinner, all four of us still sick. We said we ate some bad cheese at lunch and no one believed us. 

Europe 2004: London

London was pretty much like a big shopping spree for us, and having gotten sick from some questionable curry, one of the girls puked on the top of a double decker bus, causing a chain reaction of puking American students and a stream of vomit running back and forth as the bus turned corners.  We got lost, took the subway, found the hotel, and called it a night.

The last night in London, we were all allowed to go to a disco.  Most of us got drunk, the teachers were all there, too.  We caught one ordering a beer, and demanded that she throw it away, or we each get a beer for every beer she drinks.  She obviously wanted that beer, and we were a group of 20 satisfied students.

That’s where I met Nigel.  Nigel and I danced for a while, we sat on some couch and talked, he asked me if America is really like all the movies.  I asked which movies, he said, “American Pie!”  I just laughed and said, “I don't think America is much different than this.”   He asked a bunch of questions about my life and we had a pretty normal conversation.

Out of nowhere, he lightly grabbed my chin and pulled me in for a kiss.  Having your teacher catch you making out with a guy in a dark corner at a disco is certainly no fun and pretty awkward.  But, in all honesty, I did a lot less than other people on that trip.  Next stop: Paris.

Europe 2004: Dublin

After I graduated from high school I went to Europe with my senior class.  It was chaperoned by teachers, and even though we were all 18 and able to legally drink in Europe, we weren't allowed to while on this trip.  However, drinking was an essential part of our free time.

When we were in Dublin, there was no way we could pass up the chance to sit in a pub and have a Guinness before we had to head back to the hotel for nightly room checks.  On a past high school trip to Washington D.C., the teacher put a little piece of masking tape on the door so it would break if it was opened and there was no way to cover up sneaking out.  The teachers on this trip didn't do that.  It seemed to be more like a just-don't-get-caught situation.

Our hotel in Dublin just so happened to be located next to a club, or disco, as my European friends would say.  We were in Dublin for three nights, and the first two nights we spent flirting with the bouncers when we'd go outside and smoke (because that was allowed for some reason).  The third night, the bouncers offered to let us into the club for free.  We went to our room, put on our pajamas and waited for the room check.  About an hour after that, we were up and doing our hair and makeup and changing into club appropriate clothes.

We slowly opened the door to our room and took a peek, the hall was clear.  We carried our shoes so they wouldn't make the click-clack noise on the floor and made our way to the lobby.  There was a receptionist there 24 hours, so we just had to nonchalantly walk out and hope she didn't notice we were part of the school group.  We figured it'd be easy, after all, we didn't have any personal interaction with her.  We walked out the front door of the hotel and put our shoes on.  The bouncers smiled at us and we were escorted to the VIP (sweet!!!).

We had a few drinks, and I wasn't a big drinker at this time so I was pretty drunk (OK, I'll admit that I drink more frequently now and I still don't have a tolerance to brag about).  We were dancing, laughing, and smiling at guys everywhere.  One group came over, there were five of them and four of us, they asked if they could buy us some drinks.  We consented, and they came back with a tray full of a shot called Coco Mojo, I don't know what was in it, but it was good.  I had three of them.  I danced and made out with some guy that was really hot, and then I decided it was a successful night and time to go back to the room.

Two of the girls weren't interested in going back, so two of us left and two stayed.  We only brought one key, so we said we'd just go back, take showers, and wait for them to come back and lightly knock on the door.  We silently maneuvered through the hallways, stumbling a little even without our shoes on.  As soon as we arrived back in the room we started laughing and comparing notes from the night.

By time the other girls got back we were pretty tired and I'm not sure what exactly happened, but the receptionist took notice and told one of the chaperones they were out drinking.  The threat was if we got caught drinking we'd have to spend the rest of the trip with a chaperone...including sharing a room with one.  They only enforced that for one night for these two girls, so it wasn't so bad and we had our roomies and party partners back once we got to London.