How I Met Your Father: Diary of an International Kisser

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Kids, it’s a sad and proven fact that for most of my twenties I couldn’t get some kissing (or any physical) action in the lovely Mother City …

And not for lack of trying either – between all of my fabulous gay friends, emotionally confused jerks and unavailable idiots, there just weren’t that many options for getting that foot popping, fireworks-inducing smooch shtick Anne Hathaway  was always going on about in the Princess Diaries.

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It may be that local men were just immune to my not-so-obvious charms, unlike their international counterparts …

November 2010 …

I was in Bella Italia for my 25th birthday and my first Contiki tour. The night after my birthday, a few of my new found friends and I were checking out one of Rome’s hottest clubs.

Coincidentally (or not), they also had the hottest bar men, who were not too shy with making strong, very strong drinks. Aided by a good dose of vodka courage, and high on celebrating my quarter of a century in one of my dream cities, I went in search of Ryan, the cute Aussie I’d been making eyes at all week.

Ryan, though, had vanished into thin air with a leggy brunette named Suzy and I instead found myself dancing with his roommate Max. He was a sweet guy, who hugged me to wish me Happy Birthday and then … kissed me full on the lips to reiterate his wish.

Now, this may just have been the vodka talking but as the saying goes “if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you with.” So, there, in the middle of a Roman dancefloor, with Shakira and Freshlyground blaring Waka Waka at the top of their voices, I lost myself in an Italian Kiss.

Things got heated, photos and videos were taken of the birthday girl getting her Aussie on and Max suggested we get out of there. Which we did at a great speed to get back to the hotel.

When I got there, though, my head was spinning and I decided that cute as Max was, I wasn’t ready to tangle my spaghetti with his, if you know what I mean ( cue the “”Gross, Mom!”” objections).

So, I kissed him goodnight, long and hard in the cranky elevator and went off to bed, careful not to wake Kiro, my conservative Japanese roomie.

As I drifted off to sleep, I was pretty pleased with myself – an epic Italian birthday AND a foreign kissing experience … look at me getting out of my box – until ….

3am …

There was a persistent loud banging on our room door and Kiro leapt up to answer it.

“I need to see her. Just call her and tell her to come out. Please!””

Max, my not-so-cute-anymore Romeo, was declaring his love for me in the hallway, begging me to come out and meet him. Seriously, what part of “Goodnight, lad” did he not understand?!

So, amid death stares from Kiro, off I went to the door, only to find Max a hot mess. He was begging me to come back with him to his room since he’d managed to kick Ryan out for the night so that we could have some privacy.

Only … his begging was not much of a turn-on and I wasn’t moved. I might, though, have softened my resolve just a little ( because who doesn’t want a hot Aussie desperate to have her at 3am in Italy) if he hadn’t followed up my refusal with :

“Oh, come on, please! I am one girl away from winning the tour bet about who can bang the most chicks!”

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Oh f*** no! How very, very dare he reduce me to his deciding vote in a stupid, disrespectful wager!

To say I slammed my room door in his face is an understatement…

The next morning, the atmosphere was frosty and soon enough rumours of what had happened spread through our tour group like wildfire.

Max avoided me at every turn which suited me just fine, but that meant Ryan did too … all for the better, as it turns out, because apparently Ryan loved Italian boys as much as I did ( have I mentioned my gay dar was on the fritz?!)

The last night of our tour, one of the girls, Paige finally worked up the courage to ask me exactly what happened and I told her.

She burst out laughing at my sorry tale and then said: “Chick, you know Max is like, only 19, right?! No wonder he was so eager to get laid by an older woman!”

Just call me a hot international cougar kisser, why don’t you….

Coming soon: Downtown Kisses in New York 

3 thoughts on “How I Met Your Father: Diary of an International Kisser”

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