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First, after getting drenched in Manarola, we went to a train station, where we stood freezing our butts off on the platform, waiting for a train to Riomaggiore, which of course was late. I thought commuting in London was bad, but try waiting on a platform with a hundred other tourists in wet shoes, in an ill-suited outfit without a coat, as the wind and rain give you a serious lashing. It was about as much fun as having a tooth extracted without anaesthetic. But if I thought the train was bad, next we had to get a boat—yes, a boat—to Monterosso, an ancient fishing village. Cue rough seas, a bumpy crossing that was akin to being on the Stealth roller-coaster ride at Thorpe Park, feeling like I was either going to throw up or, worse, drown, and you kind of get a taste of the experience.
As we approached the shore, the sun started to come out. Thank fuck. We went to the restaurant and had some gorgeous pasta, seafood and fresh fruit salad with ice cream for dessert. At least the weather was finally looking up. Or so I thought.
The minute we stepped out of the restaurant, the heavens opened again.This can’t be happening!I went back into the bar and ordered a glass of prosecco so that I wouldn’t have to wander around for an hour until we were due to meet to get the train to Vernazza.
As positive as I’d been trying to feel throughout the trip, this excursion from hell had brought all of my emotions and sadness to the surface.Why, Lorenzo? Why did you stand me up?In fact, why did I do this to myself by putting my precious heart and emotions in the hands of a man who clearly didn’t deserve it? If I hadn’t gotten carried away with stupid dreams of having this amazing weekend together, I wouldn’t be here freezing cold, wet and feeling sorry for myself.
Why didn’t he want to meet me? Was it really because he was working, or something to do with me? Maybe it was someone else? Had he got back with his girlfriend? Were they getting married?Shit…maybe it’s because she’s pregnant?
There I went again. Overthinking…
I glanced over to the other side of the restaurant. Oh, great. A couple kissing. Would I ever kiss a man, ever again? Maybe I should have just stayed with Rich. This single life wassooooohard…
What the fuck is wrong with you, woman!screamed Reasanna in my head.
Pull yourself the fuck together and stop letting this man take control of your thoughts. You are a smart, successful and beautiful woman, and if he can’t see that, that’s his loss. Rain or no rain, you’re away from London for once, in a beautiful country on a bank holiday weekend, and you’renotworking—this isn’t just another miracle. It’s an opportunity to actually do something different, discover new places and experience more of life. So don’t waste it.
Remember, when shitty Italian men like Lorenzo throw you lemons, make Limoncello. Drink up and enjoy!
Hell to the yes, Reasanna.
I called the barman over, ordered a shot of Limoncello, downed it in one and made my way to the meeting point at the station full of positive, don’t-give-a-fuck gusto.
We got a train to La Spezia, where we boarded the coach back to Florence. And of course, five minutes later, the sun started to come out! I laughed to myself. What a day. It had certainly been an adventure. Not one I’d wish to repeat, but this was all part of my growth and another experience to add to the memory bank, that’s for sure.
I settled back into my seat, took out my phone and scrolled through the photos I’d taken earlier. Despite the rain, the colourful houses suspended on the cliffs overlooking the sea and the surrounding scenery still looked beautiful. I bet when the sun was shining, it was even more amazing. Shame that wasn’t to be today though, but that’s the way stuff goes sometimes. Things can’t always be perfect. And would you believe it? When I messaged Roxy earlier, she told me it was twenty-one degrees and sunny in London. Typical! I laughed again. Life really is funny sometimes.
Monday morning.After an eventful few days, I was at the airport and was finally returning to London..
As my flight was delayed for an hour, that gave me three hours to kill. It was a nice warm, sunny day (why wasn’t it like this yesterday?), so I sat out on the grass outside Pisa Airport.
It wasn’t long before I got bored. Should I message him? Part of me said,No, why the hell should you?Especially when he hasn’t even messaged to check you’re okay or to express any real remorse for leaving you in the lurch.But then the other part of me—you know, the weak, irrational, butoh-so-persuasivepart, which makes smart women like me do stupid things when it comes to attractive men—started to cave. Before I knew it, I’d drafted a message.
I wanted him to know that I hadn’t cancelled my trip because of him, that I’d had a good time (even if that wasn’t entirely true). To feel remorse about standing me up. And to regret missing the opportunity to spend time with me. Childish, I know, but it was hard to be logical in these circumstances.
Me
Afternoon, Lorenzo. Well, I decided not to waste my money/time, so I came to Florence anyway and had an amazing few days. Love this country, the friendly people and the delicious food. And the hotel was great (HUGE bed)! Hope work wasn’t too awful? You should have told them you were busy and joined me instead. You really missed out, and who knows if you’ll ever be lucky enough to get another chance…
I clicked the send button.
Would he reply? And if he did, what would he have to say for himself?
If past timings were anything to go by, in roughly two hours, I would find out…
