Muhammed Ali

Alone. At night. Bad idea, but I didn't do it on purpose. I had just arrived to the pensione for dinner and my mother was there waiting for me because my father found some great shoes and I had to see them right away. Of course. We rush to the store that's about to close, see the shoes, decide to wait till the saldi (sales that happen every January in Italy) and leave. Except my parents want to keep shopping--but they were willing to walk me back. "No," I tell them, "keep shopping, I'll be fine. I know where it is." Right. I thought I did, but one wrong turn and pfff.. Lost. But just a little. I kept recognizing certain stores (Roberto Cavalli, Paul & Shark) and some familiar restaurants but I couldn't find the exact via that I needed. Well, this guy starts following me. I thought he was following me and then I thought no he's just in a hurry so he's catching up, then I was like OH crap when he whispered bella in my ear; but, eventually he went another way. Or so I thought because after I went in a different direction--which was the wrong direction because I needed to go the way he went but wanted to avoid him--he was all of a sudden behind me again. I stopped on the sidewalk, let him pass me, and then I turned around and went the way I thought I needed to go.
Then I see this guy walking with his friend. I don't think he's cute. I see their going in another direction. I'm fine. I walk for about four minutes and someone catches up to me, starts walking beside me and asks me things in Italian.
"No, non parlo Italiano."
"Che parli?"
"Spagniolo"
"Oh...Inglese?"
WHY DIDN'T I just LIE AT THIS MOMENT?
"Si." STUPID.
"Where are you from?" he asks.
"Porto Rico."
"Ahh..."
Then he starts telling me his whole life story. He's half-Italian, half-Tunisian. He's a boxer and he's studying in Italy. But he looks kind of old, right? So I ask him (in an attempt to get him off my back), "Quanto anni hai" (How old are you?) To which he replies, "30 anni. E tu?"
"Oh, io ho 20 anni. You're too old for me. Goodbye."
"What? No, no, no. Never say that. "
"Why not? There's 10 years difference, it's too much for me."
"No, in a serious relationship that doesn't matter." So we're in a serious relationship now? NO NO NO!
He then tells me, as if this helps his argument, "My friend (who was way behind us--as to not cock-block I presume, excuse my French) just got married 5 days ago and she's 18, and he's 33." So...why isn't he on his honeymoon??? SHADY
He repeats, "Never say someone's too old. That's stupid. Never, never too old." AAAAAH.
"Plus, my ex-girlfriend was 19," he adds. NOT HELPING, buddy. "It depends on the person," he says.
Yeah, exactly, and this person doesn't want to date you, a 30 year old "boxer." Then he goes on to tell me that I'm big (as in tall) and that I need someone strong: "You like that no? Someone like that. I am a bouncer too and I can get you in to clubs, and in to a gym for a good price." Basically, he's reached the point of bartering with me to go out with him. I tell him I don't need it or want it. He asks me where I'm staying, if I have a cell phone. I say no, even though it's in my pocket.
"I know everyone, I ask the guy in that store over there, I know him well, he'll give me a pen so I can give you my number." I turn to him and say, "Look, this isn't going to happen. I'm not here for a boyfriend, I'm here to study." He says, "Oh that's what you say, but you never know."
I look at him straight in the eye, put my hand out to shake his hand, and say, "I'm not interested. Nice meeting you. Goodbye." He resigns with an "Okay. Sei bellisima."
During our conversation I had been looking around to orient myself and so I did, and then I walked off. I made one more loop around the same similar streets and then finally located the pensione where I ate A DELICIOUS pasta dinner. Mmm.

Oh, and I forgot to say, he told me his name was Muhammed Ali.

A boxer...named Muhammed Ali.