Small Town Life

Living in Positano has been a bit like being back in high school - everyone knows everyone else’s business, and you can’t do anything without the entire town finding out. You can’t order a cappuccino rather than your normal expresso without the entire town finding out and what wondering what prompted the sudden change. Take, for instance, when I met Luigi last night. I was having dinner with my friend Dominique (I finally have girlfriends) when he came over and sat at our table (he owns the restaurant). Dominique introduced us and he replied: “I know who you are. I’ve seen you around. You had dinner at Saracena D’Oro two nights ago and ate at Buca di Baco last night. I saw you having coffee down there this morning too before heading out to the beach.” In the states, something like that would seem a bit stalkerish, but it’s just the way Positano works.

The irony, however, is that even though even though nothing remains secret, monogamy doesn’t appear to be a priority for any of the men. A friend of mine met a guy last week and thought he was cute, so asked around about it. The conversations, which she had with three different guys, were all pretty much identical and went along the lines of:

Girl: What do you knout Antonio?
Boy: Why, do you like him?
Girl: Maybe
Boy: He’s married
Girl: Oh, too bad
Boy: Too bad?
Girl: Yea, I can’t go out with him if he’s married
Boy: Why not? That’s doesn’t matter.

When she asked Antonio if he was married, he told her no. The gold band he wears on his left ring finger isn’t a wedding band, but a gift he received from his father on his 18th birthday. The worst part is she kind of believed him...

She got drunk and kissed him last week and apparently now he’s in love with her. We know this not only because he calls her at least ten times a day and sends multiple text messages, all of which remain unanswered, but because he’s told her. One of yesterday’s texts read:

You are my queen and I am your king. I am your boyfriend and you are my girlfriend. I love you. Kiss kiss.

I wish I were kidding but I’m not. He really sent that. I should also say how he got her number... When we were at the beach, he went into the parking garage, asked the attendant which car was hers, and proceeded to open the door and leave a note on her steering wheel with his number. The next day she saw him and and he made a phone signal to his ear, and then followed her around for a bit. Finally she texted him to say Stop following me. His response was to call her. And call again. And again and again and again. I think the total was 32 for that day. He works down at one of the restaurants on the beach, so we see him every day. We have bets going on how long it will take before he realizes she not at all into him. While one person things he’ll stop trying b the weekend, I’m giving it at least another week.

I learned today that the local doctor - the one who refers to himself as “Giuseppe the physician. The doctor” in case I’ve forgotten, and the one who doesn’t believe in buttoning the top five buttons on his shirt - is in love with me. How do I know? He told me. After meeting him twice, I called him three days ago about an apartment, and after giving me the details, he said “I find you a beautiful and erotic woman and I want to take you out to eat a nice meal. Call me when you want to go out.”

Obviously I haven’t called him, and have been silencing his calls since then. Unfortunately, I had to call him this morning to ask about the apartment for a friend. It was an awkward call, the height of it when he said: “Leigh, you are beautiful and I love you. I want to be your boyfriend.” I should also mention he’s about thirty years older than me and creeps me out.