As the chilly winds of December swept through my hometown in Puglia, I found myself yearning for a little Christmas magic. So I took to the dating apps, seeking the excitement of flirting with strangers. To my surprise, I matched with a guy not too far from my location, but visiting from distant corners of Europe.
What began as a casual chat soon transformed into something much more profound. Our flirtatious exchanges evolved into sweet serenades of songs, the sharing of heartfelt texts, and discussions of our innermost thoughts. Before I knew it, he had booked a flight to Rome for the following month, eager to meet in person.
January breezed by, marked by a whirlwind of events that made time pass faster than I could have imagined.
As February dawned, my anticipation grew. Our conversations had become less frequent, and I began to entertain doubts about meeting someone I had only known through a screen. He could have been anyone, and I was wary of the potential risks. Nevertheless, I ventured to the airport to welcome him.
There, I met a tall, blond, curly-haired man who instantly dispelled my fears with his warm presence. I didn’t waste a moment in silence, but eagerly showed him around, from Fiumicino airport to the enchanting Circo Massimo. Our journey led us to enjoy a glass of natural wine and eventually to a techno club, where I may have indulged a bit too much, but he remained sober.
From the very start I sensed a deep connection and trust between us. While we spent the night with my friends, it felt as though it was just him and me. That very night, he booked flights to return two weekends later.
Over the passing months, he continued to visit, and as I endeavored to make him fall in love with Rome, I found myself falling for him.
But as is often the case in romantic tales, a shadow appeared on the horizon. Timing became my nemesis.
Come June’s end, I made the painful choice to push him away, despite his unwavering support, understanding, and care. I yearned for solitude, and he respected my decision.
Graduation arrived in July, but he wasn’t there to celebrate with me. Though I longed for him to be by my side, I kept my feelings hidden.
By the summer’s end, I realized my grave mistake. I missed the one person I felt truly comfortable with. In September, I sought to mend what I had broken, but he was no longer willing. It marked a bittersweet conclusion to a love story that could have had a beautiful, happy ending.
Nevertheless, one thing went as planned—I succeeded in making him fall in love with Rome. Next year, he will make the city his new home. As I watch him embark on this new chapter, I can’t help but wonder what might have been. Yet, in the end, perhaps our love story had its own unique path, one that led him to a new home in a city we both hold dear.
