The Italian Stallion..

The Italian Stallion. Well sort of.  He is shorter than me at 5 ft 6. He has beautiful hands. I love beautiful hands.
He is 40 ish, worked all over, loves Rome, has been here in Tanzania for 7 months, works like a trojan running Runway and also the new bar that the owner
Samanter has on Zanzibar. I was a fool. He invited me out on a catamaran for lunch ( if I'd gone I would have met Abby - that's ok as I found her myself ),
he invited me to the opening of the new bar on Zanzibar and I didn't go. I wish I had.

I was told he had a reputation as a ladies man. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. He does have an amazing smile, he hugs me like I'm a long lost lover and I make him laugh.
His English isn't great, so I am teaching him a bit, throwing in the odd curve ball - "stop being a wido simone' .. "widow?" no.. WIDO as in wide as the blimmin clyde!

He never lets me pay for a drink, always chats to me and who cares if he's a ladies man. He's not my man, so why should I care?
He seems to be working ridiculously long hours - between Runway here in Dar and the new bar on ZZ. He has no time to himself
and is always rundown. I don't know how long he will last here. He doesn't seem too happy.

His body is incredible ( we are friends on FB ), he is extremely fit and has some stunning tattoos. He loves sailing and fishing and has a cute
wee jack russell called Matilda. Sghe stays on ZZ. I'd like to meet her.

His twinkly eyes tell a story. He's had many jobs, used to be party mad and now doesn't drink. Like most Italians I've met, he smokes
like a chimney and loves his coffee. He calls me my love.. though it sounds like my loaf. Ho hum.

He has a byootiful friend, half Irish, half Italian who lives here in Tanzania and she is heading to Glasgow later this summer to study at
Glasgow Uni. He was delighted to ask me if I would help his friend.. of course.. and before you knew it, there I was transported in my mind back to
Glasgow and that little flat I shared with Fitzy, right next to the Union. Gulp. Must not dwell on the past. Yes!! I said when can I meet her and I will
do as much as I can to help your friend..!!

We swapped stories on tattoos and our ex partners. His ex was so OCD that it was driving him crazy, so they split.
He asks about Charlee every time I see him - he looks at all her pictures on my Facebook. He also likes to
make me squirm by puling up some of my publicity shots - ahh you are a muddle. Model no, muddle - probably yes.

I hope to see him when he's not working at Runway. I like it there but no longer drink and unless I am maybe djing
or hanging out with Anita, Sylvia, Abby and their friends then I feel like I could be spending my time more wisely.

I did once have breaskfast ( strong coffee ) with him at the Protea Hotel - he was inbetween apartments - its an ongoing saga as he as a carazee landlady.
He drove me back to Upanga afterwards on his moped. I refused lifts before home from Runway as he didn't have a helmet for me. He took my bag - which
had everything of any importance to me... laptop, camera, phone, perfume, books, and put it between his legs and told me to "Ever ( my name ) squuze tight"
I did and it was a mental ride back home, not least for the fact that the traffic here is nuts and we're on a mpoed and there are goats and vans and bajjaj and
cars everywhere going fast and bosh! my bag spliis on the road.. a 4 x 4 narrowly avoided it. The perfume bottle ( am on my last one ) survived - phew
..mosre importantly laptop and camera .. all in one piece. The scratches on the laptop now have their own story..

I just sent him a text "do you want to have dinner with me ?'" if he's in the same time zone as my other non Brit friends, then I will probably get a response on
Friday. It's Monday 25th today......