Ischia – Italy’s Islanders 30

Life would never be the same after Francesca got involved with Tony. © Photo by Antonio Gerenini

Life would never be the same after Francesca got involved with Tony. © Photo by Antonio Gerenini

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Chapter Thirty – Speedy Love

On that first trip to Italy since Tony and I had become a couple, I was certain I had fallen madly, deeply in love. But was it all too much too fast? Our relationship was accelerated whenever we were finally together because we had to pack in so much of it all at once. I didn’t just visit Italy and see Tony every once in a while during my stay as I would have at the start of our courtship had we lived in the same place. I lived with him while I was in Italy, and we saw each other day and night. Because he lived with his family, I met everyone – from his mom to his sisters and brothers-in-law – just a couple months into the relationship. And I lived with them, too. We ate all our meals with them. While Tony was out running errands or going to work, I was home with his family. The same had been true for him while he was in the States. As a result, we grew close at a fast pace. Things were very serious very soon. Perhaps, I should have been more afraid of the speed, but I was honored Tony wanted to pursue me.

Before Tony, few, if any guys, took a romantic interest in me. I never dated anyone before him. And the guys with whom I hung out were studious, bookish types. Tony was nothing of the sort. He was the class clown, cracking jokes and making puns. Although he was sweet, he could remain detached enough to seem cool and to make you yearn for more. I personally could never pull off that kind of aloofness. And with his height, that goatee and those big green eyes, he was hot. I, Francesca Di Meglio, the girl who no boy ever noticed, was dating a hot Italian guy. How did this happen?

That’s why when I returned to the United States after this trip, I was a bit overwhelmed. I felt as though I was practically engaged already even though Tony claimed to be a commitmentphobe. He was a commitmentphobe, who insisted we committed to one another and introduced me to his family from the start. He was a commitmentphobe, who did not wince when he met my parents before we even officially started dating. He was a commitmentphobe who spoke of fear of commitment but who seemed to have none. I was supposed to be unafraid of commitment. Yet, I wondered whether we were rushing into this love. That wasn’t enough to spark fear or to keep me from loving more. And I knew things would never be quite the same for me.

Tune into this Web site, Two Worlds, every Monday for the latest installment in my blog about my experiences in Ischia, and every other Monday to for the latest Our Paesani column about all things Italian. Di Meglio is also the Guide to Newlyweds for

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