When: November 8, 2022
Where: 41st Street
Time of Day: 9:55 am
An Italian man. He walked toward me.
This Italian man wore a slim light brown coat, as there was finally a chill in the air. He also wore a thin cashmere black scarf draped oh so right across his neck falling just so on his coat.
His dress was Italian right down to his sleek leather shoes.
He casually strolled by me talking to his Italian mates. He was, at the most basic level, an Italian man. So what? That fact meant nothing.
But an Italian man dressed that way, well, it’s also everything. At least to me.
It’s not the way the women dress in Italy, but the way men do. Years ago, strolling through Milan, where I had been sick as a dog recovering from Delhi Belly, the men with that exact same style were everywhere. In the little coffee bar, striding the streets, shopping the late January sales —
One even strolled up to me outside the Duomo and immediately took my arm into his. We were striding and he was speaking in Italian. Of course, he was an Italian man. Of course, I could not speak Italian — he didn’t bother to care too much.
“Let’s have an espresso!” Well, that’s how I translated us walking into the coffee bar together. He brought over some piping hot drink and that’s when I noticed the wedding ring — on his finger.
I pointed to it — he brushed my concerns away. The gist I got was she (the wife) was at a conference and he had the whole afternoon to lounge around in bed with me.
What? Not only was he complete eye candy, but he was also insane.
A half an hour later, as I politely declined him, he was not bothered in the least. It was not meant to be. Ciao!
Ciao indeed! Who cared about the bed, an Italian man had taken my arm — just like the one strolling toward me now. What a delightful memory.
I was surprised back then, but I can pick this man out anywhere today.
This morning, Madame served up this familiar, wonderful eye candy and accompanied memory to me as I joined her to see what she wanted to show me.
Madame remembers me – particularly what I like – it’s like she’s been holding me in mind all these many years and knows what will delight me at the start of any ordinary day.
This Italian man said nothing. In fact, he breezed on by as Madame took my hand to begin our day together.
