The Americanina Part TWO: the Epilogue

This is the second part of this post. It doesn’t make sense to read it if you haven’t read the previous one first.

It just so happens that the most powerful deity is… the God of TV series. And this is the story of his revenge against me. All my life, I’ve criticized romantic comedies. I’ve always considered them “sci-fi movies for desperate housewives”: men who change (yeah, right), magical and predestined encounters (boom), and trips to beautiful places that change your life (unclear if with or without Alpitour).

Well, a brief summary of the first episode: I meet a 21-year-old bisexual contortionist with the face of a sweet child and the soul of a vixen. We share the same values, we want freedom, fun, and sexual experimentation. I invite her on vacation. I realize she’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman. After 20 years, I fall in love again.

So, tell me if this story doesn’t sound like the plot of a B-grade romantic comedy, with the middle-aged man in a midlife crisis falling for the young girl.

God of TV series, I know: I’ve sinned. Many times. But you’re a real jerk!

The Return and Back to Reality

Once back, I ask her if she’d like to keep seeing each other or if we should consider the experience over.

She says, “Paolo, I really enjoyed being with you. We’re far apart, but I want to make time to keep seeing you.” Beyond the vacation effect, which makes everything better, it genuinely seemed like she was gradually falling for me. I felt a real connection.

The Americanina goes home and we keep in touch.
She writes to me every day.
She sends naughty photos.
We play some long-distance games (I remote-controlled her at the office, with a ruler, a mouse, and a highlighter in honor of the famous post “The Horror… The Horror” by Bane).

The post-vacation effect on my mood is devastating. Beyond a hormone spike that made me feel like I could have slept with a women’s volleyball team in an afternoon, I’m hyper-energetic, a current constantly runs through my body, I walk like this:

But it won’t last long. What happened next pierced me like a spear.

One day she tells me she’s sleeping with some guy. You’ll remember that from the start, we had agreed on an open relationship. And I won’t hide that since returning I’ve seen a few friends. So absolutely normal and acceptable.
The problem is that since she started sleeping with this guy… she started responding to me slower and slower. Once I wouldn’t have even noticed, but the truth is I was now completely hooked and without any limits. I, who have always been in control of myself and master of relationships with women, was now no longer able to avoid things I knew would create problems.
I start doing stupid things.

First stupid thing, I tell her I’m her best choice:

The fact remains that, the day after she slept with the guy, she starts replying to me more slowly. Day by day, the hours between messages increase.
Every time she apologizes, but actions speak louder than words (my old life rule: watch what they do, not what they say).

Let me be clear: normally I’m just happy for my girls to have their freedom, if we’re not in an exclusive relationship. I’ve always encouraged my FBs/MLTRs to sleep around and I’ve always appreciated when they shared the experience with me. You know my worldview, which is where this blog comes from.
But this time was different.
Her sleeping with the other guy bothered me.
But not out of jealousy: if she had proposed a threesome with the guy, I would have been in.
My discomfort was tied to the idea of losing her, of being a second choice, a slot in her schedule. Of not being important enough.
I hadn’t felt insecure for many years. I was becoming a shadow of myself. Far from Magnificent, I was losing my shine day by day, showing insecurities and doubts that didn’t belong to me or that I didn’t know I had.
I tried not to let it show. But she’s not dumb, she sensed it, and surely this “jealous” attitude of mine must have annoyed her.

Meanwhile, two weeks have already passed. We meet. She comes to Milan to see me. Sure, she misses the train after sleeping with the guy (!) but still arrives with a slight delay.

I don’t ask anything, but she gives me an explanation (which I won’t share for privacy).
Inside, I consider her behavior disrespectful, perhaps a clear attempt (conscious or unconscious) to ruin the relationship, or simply evidence that I wasn’t that important.
I put on a brave face, say nothing, welcome her with maximum enthusiasm. But inside, I feel misaligned and believe my behavior isn’t up to my values.
Initially, I blamed myself a lot for this, then I realized that when you love, sometimes this makes sense. You can’t spend your life keeping score, but you have to leave room, freedom, and choice. And it’s a show of strength, not weakness.
But it’s also possible it was all just in my head, the head I had lost.

Anyway, for the next day, I had organized a threesome with her and a remarkable 23-year-old.
According to Fil, the threesome was a mistake because it was yet another “Magnificent” gesture where I wanted to either show her how cool I am or “humiliate her by screwing another girl in front of her.”
I was complaining about being a second choice, about having emasculated myself, accepting such disrespectful behavior without telling her to get lost… and he tells me: “If you realize, you did all these things… she only did them after you did.”
It’s possible that this came across, but in reality, it’s the furthest thing from my intentions: I saw it as an experience that could have brought us closer. One of the best things about the vacation was commenting on the girls we could have hooked up with together.
In the threesome, the focus for me was my girl; the other was just a chick I brought along to have this experience with the woman I loved.

My Slutty Baby arrives.
I’m not well, I feel sick.
I think a bit about the other guy sleeping with her. Mostly I think about how she seemed more distant.
Headache.
Complete failure, second mistake.

My dick goes on strike.

The whole vacation no problem, but as soon as we got back, it didn’t want to get up.

By now I’ve realized that my dick is much wiser than me.
I have a guru dick.
It gets things instantly.

She understood that we would hurt each other from the first day back from vacation.
I had lost my head, and my dick was trying to sabotage the relationship, knowing I’d end up under, that she wasn’t as into it as I was, that my actions and thoughts weren’t aligned with my desires.
“Dickhead” is said derogatorily, but my dick is the Einstein of dicks.

In these conditions, I cancel with the 23-year-old before meeting her, missing out on a threesome that would have been epic and not winning Barney Stinson’s belt.

The American girl and I still have a nice weekend.
She’s sweet, we’ve shared some nice moments, I still see her into me. She’s much more physical, cuddles me, shares a lot with me, makes plans for activities together, doesn’t have particular demands on how we spend our time because she’s just happy to be with me.

But I’m worried about not being able to sleep with her. Our relationship was born from that and for that, so it’s really disruptive. Especially considering the other guy keeps going at it (and she gives me the play-by-play: “Oh, you know, he surprised me”… but damn it! Why tell me?)

The point is that — when she’s not with me — I feel her distant.
More and more distant.
She replies later and later. She sees the other guy more frequently (who lives in the same city; it’s also convenient). I was giving everything and felt like the other person was drifting away.

My Attitude

Probably, none of this mattered to her. In the end, she was acting according to the conditions we agreed on; she was still present, and we kept seeing each other.

Maybe I wrote the epilogue of the relationship with my behavior.

Let’s be honest: I lost my mind.
Normally, I wouldn’t have given the issue any weight. It’s understandable that people come and go, get distracted by new things, and then come back to you.
The girl told me I gave her stability, serenity, that I was always sure, always intellectually stimulating, like none of her peers.
Well, falling in love like that, unprepared, made me just another peer; depriving her of what she liked in me.
I started acting stupidly. To be clear, I didn’t make scenes or do anything strange. But my responses were snappy: I was less available, a bit prickly; I told her our relationship was unbalanced, made her feel indebted, obligated, etc.
Funny: today my only regret is not giving more, not doing everything I wanted to do for her. I regret what I didn’t give and feel miserable for some of my behaviors.

Anyway, I was dying to see her again.
Obviously everyone had their own life and commitments, but my pressure to see each other soon was showing through. The best thing for a girl who loves freedom is to experiment and fly free.
A week passed, we agreed to see each other the following weekend.

The End of Everything, in the Blink of an Eye

I write to her Tuesday morning to confirm we would see each other on Saturday. She sends me a message Wednesday evening, after 36 hours, talking about something else, without addressing the topic and without answering my direct question.

I understand.

I don’t reply.

She understood.

She writes to me again in the night between Thursday and Friday:

I reply in the morning with this message:

You know the interesting thing?

She never saw it. Not even now.

She never opened my messages again.

I tried calling her after a week, but she didn’t answer or call back.

I thought maybe I had screwed everything up by not reaching out the last week. I waited a few days and then sent her a message on Instagram, apologizing and requesting a call for clarification/goodbye.

Never seen.

She ghosted.

She’s gone.

She denied me any explanation.

Many weeks later, I see her Instagram story where she’s getting ready for her second bungee jump. I wanted to write her a nostalgic message, but… she notices I’ve seen the story and mutes my stories.

I got the message: she doesn’t want me to have anything to do with her anymore.

Insisting on contacting her would have bordered on stalking. I acknowledge and don’t contact her anymore.

Nothing, I screwed everything up.
I lost her.

I delete all the photos from my phone.

I try to forget her.

I suffer like a dog, for weeks.

I don’t accept that she disappeared like this. I don’t accept never seeing her again.
But — worse still — I’m also afraid she’ll come back, given the upheaval she caused me. I, who have always been the master of my world, I who decide the destinies of many people, rendered powerless by love for a girl.

I do a huge amount of work on myself.
I have the relationship coach, Filippo.
The personal development coach, Pietro (the one with the life-changing sessions).
And I also go for all the checks on my dick with all possible specialists:

• the urologist says everything is fine (and pockets €400)
• the endocrinologist says everything is fine (and pockets only €80)
• I even go to the MTV sexologist, the one from Loveline with Camilla, who in the meantime has become President of the Sexologists Association, etc. He also confirms everything is normal (and I don’t remember how much he pockets, with a 25-minute visit, half of which spent sleeping)
• the other girls I go with (reluctantly) experience that everything is fine (at least these don’t cost me!).

In the end, it wasn’t just with the Americanina.
I probably emasculated myself, accepting a situation I didn’t like for fear of losing her.
I find many unresolved issues.

I understand that this story is also the result of removing the previous block I had, like a dam breaking and releasing a huge amount of long-held things.

The Healing

With great effort and pain, I resolve everything.
Today, I can think back to her in a very clean way.
I no longer feel pain, only love, acceptance.
I no longer feel anger about how she behaved at the end, about disappearing like this (actually, I understand her now, given my behavior).
I no longer have anxiety about her, nor terror of having made mistakes, nor fear of having lost her. A single message, misunderstanding, or single behavior isn’t enough to push away a person who really cares about you. She left because that’s how it had to go, the foundations were missing.
Most of all I no longer have the terror that she’ll come back and devastate me.
I accept with love both that she may never show up again, and that sooner or later we might meet again. I no longer want to change her, I don’t long to contact her again (even though sometimes I’m tempted to).
I’ve been with other women, had other relationships.

I’ve restored the vacation photos on my phone: I had deleted them before, they hurt too much. Now I look at them with great pleasure, I feel those emotions again: it’s a very sweet thing, a feeling of mine that no one can ever take away from me.

I use them when I work out, try to project them onto the barbell, maybe I’ll fall in love with sports 🙂

I’m just sorry I didn’t tell her these things.

I just want to tell her:

Three months later, I still can’t stop thinking about you.
After meeting you, I exploded, I discovered that behind this Magnificent mask were several blocks.
In the end, the broken one was me. I’ve worked a lot in recent months to review my life and still feel like I’m in the middle of the sea.
Meeting you wasn’t — as I told you — just the best thing of 2020 (I still laugh at your joke) but of at least the last 10 years.
You gave me infinitely more than I gave you.
I just want to thank you and
wish you, with all the love I feel,
to find all the love you deserve.
Have a good life, my oniony stew 😉

Conclusions

From a certain point of view, it’s a shame it went this way. If I hadn’t fallen in love, the American Girl would have been the perfect partner in crime for the kind of life I love and that I advocate for in this blog. We would have had a lot of fun together, we would have gone to clubs, we would have shared girls, a bit like what happens with the other women in my life.
Who knows how many new experiences and emotions we would have shared together.
From this perspective, losing her is a shame and a terrible waste.

On the other hand, falling in love was an experience I really needed, a crucial step in my journey of personal growth and authenticity. I’m glad I did it with her, who deserves all the love in the world.
It’s true that I suffered, but I’m a better man for it. And for that, I can only thank the American girl. She’s no longer mine, maybe she never was, but she’ll remain etched in my heart as a precious gift.
Today, I know things happen as they should. This story was meant to go this way. And I’m perfectly fine with that.

This experience has also made me open to fully loving again, to truly committing to a relationship.

Goodbye Americanina and Thank You!

Damn it!

PS.

In fact, many months later, I reached out to her again. Here’s the account of how it went.

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