A Cuban bulge and an Italian Hero

Toledo - Spain

It was a “go easy with the alcohol” type of evening for me and my Italian friend. A sin, for someone born and raised in the marvellous Toscani.

While I was drinking my beer, he asked the waiter for something different which I couldn’t recognize.

The reason of our appointment? I spoke to him about this “Drunken stories-drunk traveller” project of righting a blog and maybe one day, a book. He opened big eyes and said, I have a story for you, this happened in Toledo long before I moved to Amsterdam (where our meeting was occurring).

Everything started when my friend was still a ballet dancer, I know that many would thought “ballet dancers are Gay”, but that stereotype cannot be further away from reality (actually, probably they have more sex with women than anyone). You know, all the sensibility of the dance, those muscular well-structured bodies and sharing intense evenings of work sessions surrounded by beautiful females. You may guess how it goes.

My friend was young at that time, 22 years old. He fell in love of an Spanish dance colleague which  by being a little bit older than him, never spent even a second of her attention on him. But this story has two rounds and here goes the first.

First Round

“Dude, I always like her”, He told me in perfect English while he was starting to remember… I had chased her for months, we were travelling together with the rest of the ballet crew, we covered all Spain dancing, training or rehearsing. We both were dancers but she was the best.  During all that time, I was giving her my best smiles and crossed eyes, but she was never returned those gestures.

But this one night, I finally got my opportunity, we reached the end of the tour and we gathered together with the crew in a local Toledo bar to celebrate. Everyone was there and of course also my goddess, looking astonishing. I was on a mission to get her heart.

Once inside the bar, I was like an octopus trying to get close to her and she continued not paying attention to me. Suddenly, between the cocktails, the joy and the music, I was getting close.

Someone started a game. I don’t know how, but the waiter brought different fruits like grapes, strawberries, pineapples, etc. The game was simple, we had to pass the fruit from mouth to mouth. I realized she was going to participate (I smiled in my mind) and rapidly I went and stand next to her, finally my chance to feel her lips. (this last part was toll by my friend with full excitement, clapping and rubbing the hands together like trying to make fire with a wooden imaginary stick)

A pineapple! Cut in a small chunk, I grab it with my lips from someone I cannot recall, I looked at her and I approached. What pineapple? Disappeared in a glint, but instead I gave her my best Kiss which was returned. I was in heaven.

We continued dancing and no one could delete the smile, from my face.

I interrupt the story by saying:

-        Well, you made it!

-        I didn’t make anything, she barely even spoke to me during the rest of the night nor in the following days.

-        Then what happened?

“everything went to hell” that happened.

Either way, I was feeling optimistic after that night, because she kissed me back and if she was not paying attention to me anymore, that was only a detail that I could fix in time. But the worse was coming.

After a few weeks, a delegation of Cuban dancers were hired by our company for the new play. One of the dancers, got into an affair with my Spanish girl and they got trapped in this wave of passion and chemistry that made them look like there was nothing else in the world for them. Fuck sake! That Cuban conquer her just after a few days of arrival, while I had been in love of her for ages and she barely says hi to me. On top of this, they were like rabbits during the breaks of the rehearsals and I had to put up with my muse being couple of someone else.

To make things worse, I shared dressing room with him and don’t get me wrong, I have my stuff, but the Cuban was looking proud his enormous African heritage.

-        No way (I interrupted)

-        I was still thinking in my beautiful Spanish girl so thin and delicate, lying in bed with that pseudo centaur.

But my moment would come at last…

Second round

A few months afterwards, I found out that their passionate relationship was over. After, one and half years from that pineapple and together with this,  the play with the Cubans was also finished (tour included).

So again, we were celebrating with the entire company in another Spanish Bar. I was true to my objective but less brave as per all the experiences so far, but mainly because of her lack of interest.

She was dancing, the lights over her, her face, her smile. That magnetism she was irradiating dragged me, I just wanted to be close to her.

Maybe were the cocktails we drank, but over the dance floor I got so close without her telling, that in one spin of dance of her, she raised the elbow and Bam! She hit me right in my lip and I was immediately  blasting in blood.

-        “Uff” that went really wrong (I interrupted again)

-        Was the best thing ever happened to me (he replies smiling)

(He continued with the story…) My lip, was bursting in blood and she was super worried about me, she ran to get some napkins and took me to the toilet to get some water. While she was cleaning my wound, out of the blue, she kissed me. 18 months of wait were finally paying out! I kissed back and we hugged and we make out…

With all the rush of the alcohol still running in our veins, the passion hauled us, we couldn’t stop kissing each other and without thinking, we went straight to the hotel, pretty much without separating our lips along the way.

I remember been in the elevator when I pulled her against me, she lowered her hand under my waist and with her palm she stroked a bulge in my pants that sadly… was my wallet. I still believe she didn’t realize but I was just thinking “damm Cuban”

-        Hahahaha (I had to interrupt)

-        Hey, I have mine, I’m Italian. Is just that she looked first in the wrong place. (he said between laughs)

-        Well, what happened afterwards

-        That night? Nothing.

-        I don’t believe you

-        I’m telling you. We arrived at her room and she regretted. Nothing happened

-        And at the next day?

-        I didn’t pronounce any word. I just looked at her, grabbed her hand and never let go.

-        Never let go? Wait! That’s the story of Chichi, your wife?

-        We have been together for 14 years since then.

-        Hahaha, “Grande Jogatore” (I congratulated him in his own language). I loved your story.

Chichi arrived at the place, looking for my friend. We waved a bye and they went happily to the park with their son.