Stalkers, Italian Style...

I decided to come back to Italy and enjoy my single-ness whole-heartedly. Ok, so I spent a few hours with my indelibly sexy Italian beau, Mirko...who I absolutely adore (see photo below). But, he's in Rome and I'm in Sicily 12 hours by train away. So, we chat on the phone and stuff, but I have clear head space.



Well, I did.

This past summer I made the acquaintance of a guy named Alessio. He had really pretty, sparkly eyes, a million-watt smile, was fun and crazy (in a good way at first). He was a ball of fire. So we went on some dates, had a romantic text-messaging love affair (because I was traveling a lot), and things were going well until...the dreaded phone call from his wife. OMG, the bastard's married with 2 young kids. I had NO idea.

I was furious that he would be such a jerk and a liar. I wasn't hurt for me, because my feelings really weren't wrapped up in him (I still REALLY liked Mirko, who was away for August vacation), but I was livid that he would betray his family in such a casual manner. I knew that affairs are very common in this country, mostly because people marry so young and because they can go to a priest and confess and everything is forgiven. But most of the married Italian men I met who hit on me were at least up-front about their marital status. They explained a mistress would never replace a wife, and that it was imperative the wife be kept in happy ignorance. I felt like this at least gave the mistress the opportunity to make a choice of whether this kind of relationship was one she would be willing to tolerate. But since I was never given this choice (which I would have turned down), and because he was so cavalier in pursuing me and not careful to protect her, I was put into a position that I really resented.

So, I told her the truth. To my surprise, she was actually really nice to me. She wasn't angry at me, and treated me with a tremendous amount of respect and sympathy. I sent her every text message he had sent me over the few weeks, because I rarely erase texts and because they were fun to re-read. I continued to forward the messages he was still sending me. I knew I was leaving in a week to return to the States, so I wasn't that preoccupied about finding ways to avoid him. But, nonetheless, I asked her to not confront him until I left. She ALMOST made it, but two days before I left I got an angry message from him. And that was when the real drama began.

When I got his message, I was on a train back to Rome from the far south in Reggio, Calabria. But he didn't know that, he thought I wouldn't be back for another day or two. I told him I was trying to enjoy my day at the beach and if he wanted my cooperation he needed to back off. That lasted until the evening when the texts resumed. I would have turned my phone off, but I was busy contacting all of my friends to say goodbye and I wasn't going to let some lame Italian liar ruin it for me. It was nice getting sweet texts from my friends reminding me that I was very special to them and that they would miss me and to keep in touch. His texts were, well, not-so-nice.

He called me a liar and a home wrecker, and all kinds of interesting Italian words I didn't care to look-up. My favorite though, was the one that said the only thing I was afraid of was the truth. I howled with laughter despite myself at this. I replied he was living in a teenage fantasy world. But, mostly, I just ignored his accusations.

This really suits the adage that when you point a finger at someone, the other three point right back at you. He told me that he was going to wait for me at my apartment the night I got back and I was going to "fix" the situation and tell his wife I had made the entire thing up...OR ELSE. So "crazy in a good way" quickly turned to crazy in a very bad and scary way. So, I booked a hotel room not terribly far from my apartment and hatched a plan to get my stuff early in the morning when I knew there would be a million tourist groups around (because I was a couple blocks from the Vatican) and I could blend in with the other tall and fair people, grab my stuff and get out without much exposure. I swear, I should be spy.

As much as I hated paying for a hotel room the last couple of nights, my mother told me before I left that if it ever came down to the money or my safety, I wasn't to hesitate to spend the money. And because it was August, all of my Roman friends were gone on vacation, otherwise I could have stayed with them. But for peace of mind, and not having to sneak in and out of my apartment and be constantly worried that he would be waiting outside, the money was sooooo worth it.

You can imagine the message I got when he realized I had tricked him and was not at my apartment as promised. I forwarded that message as well to the wife with one last sincere apology and best wishes for the future.

So, I left Rome with some terrific memories, a clear conscious because I knew I did the right thing, and a whole new host of friends, and an offer to come back in a month and help my friend get his language school up and running.

Fast forward to my second day back in Italy. Lo and behold my phone rings. Guess who??? Alessio. Damn, damn, damn. Double damn. I had been gone for 10 weeks and the bastard was still trying my phone. And this time, instead of it being off, it had had service resumed. Next morning at 6:45am my phone rings again and his number pops up. An hour later a number I didn't recognize calls twice, but I knew it was him. And then the anonymous calls start. Every hour for the entire day. I never answered, because I was trying to decide what to do.

So, I called Mirko and asked him what I should do. I told him the entire situation. Mirko was a cop for 10 years, and has total faith in the law system here. Now he works as secret service at the UN, and is a trained killer...but really just a big teddy bear. Truthfully, I feel safer with him than anyone other than my own father. And he adores me. So, who better to ask for help? He told me to wait another day and then answer the anonymous call, and then follow his instructions. An anonymous call came in this morning, and I answered, and the person (most certainly Alessio) hung up after a few seconds without saying anything.

So, I composed a text message (as per Mirko's instructions) that said the following:

Si. E vero, sono in Roma ancora. Basta. Non mi chiami ancora o chiamo 1. tua moglie 2. la polizia 3. l'ambasciata d'Americana 4. miei amici. Arrivederci.

TRANSLATION: Yes. It's true, I am in Rome again. Enough. Don't call me again or I will call 1. Your wife 2. The police 3. The American Embassy 4. My male friends. Goodbye.

I'm obviously not in Rome, so this should throw him off my scent just in case the threats of action don't persuade him to leave me the hell alone. But I got a return text about a half hour later (in Italian of course) that basically said, "I didn't call you. I have returned to my life. Bye." lol. Riiiighhht, he didn't call. That's why his number came up on my caller ID twice. But, whatever. I think this should be enough persuasion.

It was funny because when I explained the situation to Mirko, he couldn't believe I had told the wife. That is unheard of. But, I'm an American woman, so my rules and value system is different. He said that by telling the wife I ruin his family. But he instantly corrected himself and said, "no HE ruined his family. Not you." That was the reassurance I needed, because I really hated that I had broken what seemed to have been a happy family.

So, I am going to run my credit out on my current number, and then get a new number and let my friends and family have it. That should tie up any loose strings. But I have registered with the State Dept, so they know I'm here. And my friends all know there is a crazy man on the loose, so if anything happens, they'll know who to look for first. And, of course, Mirko has been really wonderful and said that when I am Rome he'll never be further than a few steps away from me and will be my own personal bodyguard. If he can keep a diplomat safe, he can do the same for me. : )

So much for clear head-space.

My only regret about all of this was that I didn't listen to my gut-instinct when I met him that kept telling me something was off. But I was really bummed Mirko had gone on vacation and I didn't know if I would ever see him again, so I just attributed it to me being emotional and went ahead and dated this jerk.

However, I have no regrets about my subsequent actions. I am proud of myself for telling the truth, and then holding my ground on it. I am also glad that I didn't let the current harassment continue and that I made a very firm threat (which I will follow-through with if need be). I'm glad I didn't hide for more than was long enough to get council and compose my thoughts. I wasn't meek or apologetic. I have been firm.

It's unacceptable that a man thinks he can bully a woman into submission. I REFUSE to allow some pathological liar and psychopath run my life or control my thoughts. So, I write this as a way to totally clear my head and hopefully put and end chapter on this drama. It's better than Shakespeare. Well, not really. And, actually, hopefully not. Because in the tragedies somebody always dies. But, in the comedies, vengeance is served with a lesson and a laugh. That's what I'm going for.

Ciao Ragazzi.