we got everything we ever wanted
i'm a few glasses of wine in, if i'm being honest
Friends,
I’m trying something different. It’s not often that I write to you, directly in the Substack “New Post” section. We usually do a hybrid mixture of Google Docs + our trusty Notes app.
But I kind of wish you all were here with me, right now, in this moment. I’m on my second glass of red (okay - it’s really too hot to be drinking red but it’s all I could order on Deliveroo), I just had a bowl of gazpacho and a plate of fresh pasta with pesto. I’m sitting on my terrace, I’m probably getting eaten alive by zanzaras (mosquitos lol), it’s 9 PM and it’s still…I think probably pushing 30 degrees.
The neighbourhood is completely quiet, if you minus the motorcycles that will rev up their engines sporadically, the sound of the cicadas humming in the distance, and the few odd forks hitting their dinner plates in this apartment building. It’s that late summer, suburban Roman Sunday soundtrack.
Here, in no particular order (ok, well, in some particular order - are my highlights of the week):
Last year, in the height of my situationship with Peter Pan - I was hellbent on not returning to The Bar. So, I tried my best at becoming a regular at Another Bar. The characters there, I guess - were a lot more professional, and sadly, left me alone. One night, two American girls came in and sat down beside me, and starting talking about situationships. I took this as an opportunity to poll them on which selfie I should post to my grid, to make my current situationship annoyed. And thus, a life long bond between all three of us was formed. Anyways, one of the girls came back to Rome this week, we split a bottle of Vermentino and shared a heatwave dinner - a caprese salad + a charcuterie board. Nothing more, nothing less. We talked about giving it all up to the universe, being the dreaded “therapist friend”, boundaries, hope, faith - all of it. Angels in the form of strangers is always the first phrase that comes into my mind when serendipitous moments like this happen.
My favourite pizza guy at my favourite restaurant gave me a free dinner. A diavola and a glass of white. It was perfect timing - my energy was low because of this heatwave, coupled with That Time of the Month.
I had the best espresso martini of my life on Thursday. Paired with a receiving pack of free skinny cigarettes (I don’t usually condone smoking - but sometimes it’s nice for the aesthetic).
I’ve been obsessed with this Brandy Melville dress. I know people put in so much effort into what to wear on their European summers - but in my opinion - less is more. Light dresses. Cute sandals. A straw bag. Basta.
PN posted a photo of him and his girlfriend attending a wedding together, and they look…happy. He looks happy. He looks healthy. And in turn, it made me happy. It did. Really.
Here’s the interesting thing about love. Sometimes, what you really want - isn’t going to be what you really need. And what you really want, isn’t going to be what the universe gives you. And most of the time, that’s a bitter truth to swallow. A painful truth. And there were so many days, so many months, and so many hours - that I resented the amount of time that we were given. I wanted more. I wanted more hours in the day, I wanted more hours in the afternoon and in the evenings. The somewhere else, the idea of a life that, wasn’t meant to be mine - in the universe, in this timeline, anyway.
And in perfect, poetic timing - Lana’s Beautiful just came on.
Let me run with the wolves, let me do what I do
Let me show you how sadness can turn into happiness
I can turn blue into something
Beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful like you
Do you remember when I came back from Milan for a night in March? It was his second last night at the bar. I was wearing that oversized black Zara crew. A black mini, black fishnets, and those white Zara kitten heels. It was this quintessential I just strolled in from Milan outfit. Or, at least, that was the vibe I was going for. And judging by everyone’s reaction - I succeeded.
The last time he saw me was in January, and I had tears in my eyes that I couldn’t fight. Looking up at him from that corner spot, telling him how I always felt something for him. It was me waving a white flag. It was my moment of truth. My moment of can we stop these games? I’m exhausted, and I am admitting defeat.
I felt like I was attending a funeral that night. A funeral that I had knowingly planned out and participated in. It had to end somewhere. And the nail on the coffin was going to me be speaking the truth out loud.
And if I’m being completely honest with you, I don’t know if those feelings ever went away.
So, him seeing me in my Milanese outfit, fresh faced and with loose waves - and after a few months, was most likely a welcome reprieve.
“Look at you.” We held on to each other arms for a while that night, as he looked me up and down with a smile. “It makes me happy to see you like this, Emily. Really. It does. I knew Milan would be good to you.”
He winced when I brought up a conversation that I had with the Man at the Front about love that night. I know he thought those topics were always reserved for just us, but, I couldn’t let him off that easily. It’s me, after all. That prideful Leo Rising.
And it’s been days, months, and hours, since I last saw him. And I’ve gotten very comfortable, coming to that realization that I would never see him again. He’s a beautiful memory. He’s a story, he’s a lesson.
I had a dream. My best friend messaged me, all the way back in January. It was me, it was you, and it was him. And he was painting this doorway…and it was like…he was showing us how to paint it. Each and every stroke.
Look at all that you’ve taught me, the paint says. And look at all that I’ve taught you, each brushstroke responds back.
So, seeing him, smiling in that photo with his girlfriend a few days ago. It was relief. He is okay. He is happy. And he is at peace. They were at a wedding together. His mediterranean skin had this deep olive glow. His tattoos were slightly faded from the sun. He was wearing this beige, linen button up. A warm, but slightly mischievous smile had crept upon his face.
In my opinion - saying goodbye to the ones we love, should be practiced more often. And maybe it’s easier when we know that they are at peace. When we can tell by their smile, by their relaxed glow.
It’s okay to let go now. Their smile says to you.
The doorway. What have we built? What have you led me to?
And with tears in my eyes as I’m typing this. With the Roman summer soundtrack in the background. A few glasses of red in.
It pains me to let go, but I am so ready to find out. I am so ready.
Are you?
I love you.
Emily