After college I backpacked Europe with a good friend of mine. We spent two blissful months touring England, France, Germany, Austria, Czech Republic, The Netherlands, Spain, and Italy. We and all the people we met on that trip managed to cultivate enough dating tales to fill this lovely blog for the next couple of months. A lot of them I’ve chosen not to write about because when I think back to it I grimace.
What was I thinking!?!?!
The fact that we didn’t get sent home or sent to jail is amazing. The other fact that no burly German man had his way with us is also pretty amazing. I’m very grateful that we made it home safe.
So here goes, the first tale from that European trip.
Jen and I met up with my friend Biff in Venice. It was hot. So hot. And although we all longed to spend a few days in this romantic city, the beach was calling us. So off we went to Cinque Terre where the five little Italian towns provided us with plenty of great food, booze, beach, and boys.
Within minutes of landing in Monteroso a young American spotted us and helped us find a place to stay. That same young American man appeared at the bar that night. We all befriended him pretty quick, especially me.
Friend is probably an understatement.
The next week him and I managed to spend as much time together as Jen would allow. Lots of afternoons and late nights on the beach. We had a blast.
All was fine until he told me about another “girl” friend he had made a couple of weeks before who was coming back to Cinque Terre to visit him; she also happened to be from the states, the same state as me. I offered to take off to our next destination and make it easier for him, but he refused claiming it wasn’t a big deal. 
The next day as Jen and I were recouping from a late night in our rented apartment (we shared it with other travelers), there was a knock on the door. When I opened it I saw the landlord and a young woman about my age. We were introduced. Her name was Kara and as she was being shown to her room she asked if either the landlord or I knew Aaron.
The landlord looked to me, pointed, and said I was his girlfriend (It was that small of town; everyone knew everything). My new roommate looked fallen. It was evident that she was Aaron’s other “girl” friend and maybe they weren’t just friends like he said.
Long story short, that apartment got very small very fast. I went out to find Aaron so that we could discuss my new, uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, but apparently word had gotten back to him and he went into hiding.
So much for him wanting me to stay.
Aaron tried to juggle the two of us for about a day. When it all got out of control, Kara left on a train, then Aaron left on a train, and then Jen and I left on a train for Barcelona.
I did hear from him a couple of times on e-mail. Of course he was sorry and of course he wanted me to return to Cinque Terre. Too bad for him I had forgotten all about Italy and fallen in love with Spain.
However, last I heard Kara and Aaron got married. Maybe it wasn’t too bad for him that I didn’t make it back to Italy. Sounds to me like things worked out the way they were supposed to.
After college I backpacked Europe with a good friend of mine. We spent two blissful months touring England, France, Germany, Austria, Czech Republic, The Netherlands, Spain, and Italy. We and all the people we met on that trip managed to cultivate enough dating tales to fill this lovely blog for the next couple of months. A lot of them I’ve chosen not to write about because when I think back to it I grimace.
What was I thinking!?!?!
The fact that we didn’t get sent home or sent to jail is amazing. The other fact that no burly German man had his way with us is also pretty amazing. I’m very grateful that we made it home safe.
So here goes, the first tale from that European trip.
Jen and I met up with my friend Biff in Venice. It was hot. So hot. And although we all longed to spend a few days in this romantic city, the beach was calling us. So off we went to Cinque Terre where the five little Italian towns provided us with plenty of great food, booze, beach, and boys.
Within minutes of landing in Monteroso a young American spotted us and helped us find a place to stay. That same young American man appeared at the bar that night. We all befriended him pretty quick, especially me.
Friend is probably an understatement.
The next week him and I managed to spend as much time together as Jen would allow. Lots of afternoons and late nights on the beach. We had a blast.
All was fine until he told me about another “girl” friend he had made a couple of weeks before who was coming back to Cinque Terre to visit him; she also happened to be from the states, the same state as me. I offered to take off to our next destination and make it easier for him, but he refused claiming it wasn’t a big deal.
The next day as Jen and I were recouping from a late night in our rented apartment (we shared it with other travelers), there was a knock on the door. When I opened it I saw the landlord and a young woman about my age. We were introduced. Her name was Kara and as she was being shown to her room she asked if either the landlord or I knew Aaron.
The landlord looked to me, pointed, and said I was his girlfriend (It was that small of town; everyone knew everything). My new roommate looked fallen. It was evident that she was Aaron’s other “girl” friend and maybe they weren’t just friends like he said.
Long story short, that apartment got very small very fast. I went out to find Aaron so that we could discuss my new, uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, but apparently word had gotten back to him and he went into hiding.
So much for him wanting me to stay.
Aaron tried to juggle the two of us for about a day. When it all got out of control, Kara left on a train, then Aaron left on a train, and then Jen and I left on a train for Barcelona.
I did hear from him a couple of times on e-mail. Of course he was sorry and of course he wanted me to return to Cinque Terre. Too bad for him I had forgotten all about Italy and fallen in love with Spain.
However, last I heard Kara and Aaron got married. Maybe it wasn’t too bad for him that I didn’t make it back to Italy. Sounds to me like things worked out the way they were supposed to.