Love lost

It's been two weeks now, and the loss is still palpable.

I knew when it began that he would have to leave me, that this had an expiry date. I was okay with that and kept it in my mind the entire time to keep perspective on the situation. But near the end, I wanted to hold on to him as long as I could, believing against all odds, maybe it would last. Every time I began to feel that way, I reminded myself to just stay in the moment, appreciate it for what it was. And yet, a part of me held on to that little unrealistic hope that maybe, maybe he wouldn't have to go.

When we first met, there was no real connection. He was aloof and uninterested. In fact, I was pretty sure he didn't like me at all, from the way he was acting. I only dealt with him when I had to, because I didn't like his attitude. But, in time, he started opening up and I realized what a sweetheart he was, not to mention handsome: black hair and beautiful green eyes. Smart and funny, too. Things progressed quickly from there and we became inseparable.

He made me laugh every single day with his crazy antics. Stupid things like sneaking up on me and surprising me - maybe grabbing my foot while I was engrossed in a book in order to make me jump and giggle.

It was those little things that made it special. I could have kissed his face all day, and, I know this sounds weird, but I just loved rubbing his feet. But, by far, my favourite thing was curling up with him and just sleeping. Sometimes, I would stay awake and watch him sleep, stroking his soft hair, his face, his arm, his chest. Such a wonderful feeling to be that close and loving with another being.

But, of course, it came to an end. When he left, I realized it had been two months we had been together. It seemed like only a few weeks, it had gone so fast. I knew all along the day was coming, but I wasn't ready. Our time together wasn't long enough - things were just getting really good. It wasn't fair he had to go. I didn't want him to, but I knew this was the way it had to be. He needed to start a new chapter in his life. If I truly loved him, I knew I would have to let him go.

The night he left, I stayed strong. I didn't cry. We said a brief goodbye and I wished him well. The moment he was gone, though, my house immediately felt empty. It was as though all of the life went out of this place. I felt so alone and I didn't know what to do with myself anymore. The loss was more than I had expected. Even my animals felt the difference. They started sleeping more, as though they could feel the loss of energy in my place, too. It's starting to get a bit better now, but it still feels weird not to have him here with us.

He's living with someone else now, and I hope she's good to him, because if she hurts him, I will have to hunt her down and do unspeakably horrific things to her. She'd better know that.

I want to call or email so bad to find out how he's doing, but I resist that urge. Maybe sometime I will, but it's too soon. I don't want to seem clingy or desperate. And I want to give him a chance to settle into his new life.

I hope the people who adopted my little foster kitten Howie realize how lucky they are. I miss him so much, but I wish him a long and happy life in his new home.

LashMantra discount for Saviabella readers

As you know, I'm a fan of LashMantra (if you haven't read my review of this all-natural eyelash growth serum, take a gander here).

Since I wasn't approached to do that review, my readers didn't receive a discount on the product. I decided to remedy that and wrote Leon at LashMantra myself to request one. And she came through!

Until September 30, Saviabella readers will receive $3 off their orders of LashMantra. Just use the discount code "saviabella" upon checkout.

Who's got your back? Oh, yeah, it's me, baby!

Sparkle snatch

Travel diary excerpts, part two

Some of the more interesting comments from my travel diary from my trip to Italy in July/August 2007. Enjoy!

July 24, 2007

People in Italy drive like crazy. I would never be able to drive here. It's closer maneuvering with lots of quick stops and turns. I would get distracted by something shiny and kill us all.

I had forgotten about the seat belt thing - it's not the law to wear them in the back seat, so no one does. And if you try, they laugh at you or get offended because putting them on means you are scared that there will be an accident, like it's some comment on their driving. Usually, there's no point in trying to wear one, because they don't even work most times.

You just have to make your body go limp and come to terms with the fact that at these speeds, you're all going to die anyway, seat belts or not.


July 25, 2007

I expected Zia (aunt) to pick us up at the bus station, but instead, this incredibly handsome man swaggers over. I thought he was going to hit on Mona and Ella (hot twin cousins), but no, it's Sandro (my cousin). I couldn't believe it! He is so hot!! He looks a little like my dad around the eyes and nose, and the girls say he has the same colour eyes as me. It's hard not to look at him all the time. It's a bit eerie and makes me miss my father (who died 23 years ago).


When we went to Tivoli, I said I had been there when I was seven and one of the twins asked who took me there. I had to pause and think before I answered, "My father."

It was a strange feeling to say that because I don't think I've ever said it before. There were so few places we went and so few memories of happy times, but both my brother and I remember Tivoli as an incredible experience. It was something special we all shared together.

*****

Yesterday, I started asking Nonna (grandmother) about what my father was like when he was younger. I wondered if he was as silly as Sandro, who is always joking and harassing everyone ("In the joking, I speak the truth," he says.) She says my father was more serious than Sandro.

But he must have had some sense of humour, because I guess when I was two and my Nonna and Zia came to Canada for my brother's baptism, he taught me an expression in Italian that goes something like, "Are you a fish or are you [some other kind of fish]?", which loosely translates to, "Are you crazy?" Then, he sent me up to people to ask them that. It must have been so cute!

After we talked about him for awhile, I started getting emotional and so did she, but we both pretended like we weren't crying and then she started yelling at one of the twins to eat, eat, eat, even though she was already eating.

When in doubt, scream, "Mange!!"



July 30, 2007

The other day, Sandro took us to pick up Zio (uncle) at the airport in Naples. The people in that city drive like maniacs (even worse than Zia, if that's possible). They like to pass each other in between lanes. In between!! I've noticed that people from other parts of Italy talk about how crazy people from Naples are: "They're all crazy! Crazy!!" The further you get away from the chaos that place, the better.

Anyway, I was telling Sandro that there was a smarmy dude checking out Mona the other day, and he should look out for his sisters because they're hot twins with big boobs. He responded, "If I were there...." and pulled out a huge length of thick chain from the pocket on the back of the driver's seat. It was unexpected, and perfect comedic timing - I laughed so hard!

He may not speak English, but Sandro sure makes himself understood!



August 2, 2007

Nonna is a hoot. She can suck back almost a whole bottle of wine during lunch as though it were water. The twins try to take the wine away from her, but I kept pouring because I was curious to see how much she would polish off and how it would affect her. The answers are: a lot, and not that much.

She is missing most of her teeth on the bottom and her eye teeth on top. The teeth that are left in her mouth are badly stained. She's quite short and wiry with muscled legs from climbing up the mountain to work on the farm everyday.


She will repeat herself five times, even if you say you understand. One of the first conversations we had this time involved her telling me, over and over, with increasing volume and enunciation, not to flush sanitary pads down the toilet. Once I figured out what she was getting at, I burst out laughing and told her, "We don't do that in Canada either, Nonna." But she kept repeating it louder and adding hand motions and pantomime until it was absolutely over-the-top and ridiculous. And she was dead serious.

The hilarious part about this scene: she gave me the exact same speech with the same hand motions when I visited last time, 10 years ago.


*****

Being here is like living in a two-week long game of charades. You have to not care about looking like an ass, and you'll do just fine.


July 3, 2007


We're at the beach in Nettuno now and have agreed that the hotel reminds us of the one from The Shining. It's kind of run down and deserted and there are all kinds of weird people around. I think it's a freak magnet. Also, I am waiting for the elevator to open and spill a vat of blood out onto our floor. I'll have to be sure to put my luggage on a chair. To its credit, the food is divine. And hopefully blood-free.

Today, we discovered that I am still a magnet for smarmy old men. Yup, still got it, baby!

The gross, smarmy, old dude at the front desk keeps hitting on me whenever the gals aren't around; he, like many of the older Italian men I've encountered, thinks I'm easy because I'm blonde and Canadian.

Every time he comes near me, he tries to touch or kiss me. In response, I automatically go into a martial arts self-defense stance. Literally. He finds this amusing. I wish I actually knew martial arts, as this reflex could actually come in handy.

Give your vag wings

Red Bull Energy Douche with Mandy Moore from Mandy Moore

Grace in things that make my heart sing

1. Getting flirted on by both the cute guy working at the Indian restaurant and the cute guy working at the coffee shop and being completely oblivious until my friends pointed it out. I guess I've still got it, if I actually noticed anything beyond myself.
   
   
2. Making it to the gym for the first time in...weeks, months, who even knows? Feeling good afterward and having that motivate me to go again, and again, and hopefully again!
   
   
3. Finally getting started on renovating my spare room. It's going to be the prettiest shade of green - you just wait!
   
   
4. Answering "fantastic!" when someone asked me how I was doing today, and actually meaning it. Can't remember the last time that happened.
   
   
5. Going to the movie Julie and Julia with one of my best friends, Typicalquirk. Laughing, getting misty-eyed, and being inspired. Leaving the theatre walking on meringue, I was so happy. The perfect end to a perfect day, even though I didn't realize it was the perfect day until it was over.
   

Custom greeting card giveaway

Click over to my review blog for an opportunity to win a set of 250 custom greeting cards (for United States shipping only.)

Good luck!

Blush-inducing advice needed!

One of my dashing male readers emailed me awhile ago wanting to know the name of the sex toy that has been recommended so highly on this blog. I sent him the link to the Rock Chick and he promptly ordered it for his lovely lady, thinking that he would get extra points for her birthday present this year.

[I just got really distracted, because when I clicked on the link, I noticed that they have put the Rock Chick instructional video back up on the site. Yup, you read that right: instructional video. Complete with an opera soundtrack.]

Unfortunately, my reader ran into a snag right before he gave the ultimate vibrator to his partner. He emailed me for some urgent advice:

Savia,

I am in dire need of some blush-inducing advice. She said she finds the idea of sex toys "repulsive" and she "never masturbates because it makes me feel too lonely." So, now I have the Rock Chick stowed away for the right moment and -- zap! -- I can't. I could get a sex change, but that's a little drastic, dontcha think? Then there is a former gf, but that would be unkind. What does a man do with an unneeded, unopened RC?

~Wondering in Washington

I'm kind of stumped, really.

I can't suggest that they use the Rock Chick together, because it doesn't sound as though she'd be receptive to that at all.

I can't suggest that he ask his friends if any of them are interested in having the toy to give to their partners. I'm guessing these are not things dudes talk about in the locker room together, and the suggestion may be perceived as a commentary on the other dudes' sexual prowess.

I also can't suggest, as I would to any of my friends, that he just do a giveaway of the toy on his blog, because his blog is not that kind of blog. I imagine that kind of post would be quite shocking to his readers.

So, what should he do? Leave your thoughts in the comments. Let's help a guy out!

Super Mario sex tape

Needless to say, this is NSFW.

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Stop the abuse!

...Just get a Rock Chick.

Large Format Poster Giveaway Winners

Winners are announced over at my review blog. Thanks to everyone who entered!

Travel diary excerpts

Some of the more amusing comments from my travel diary from my trip to London in July 2007. Enjoy!

July 16, 2007

I can't understand people in this country. No, literally, I can't understand them. We speak the same language, but really we don't. Many blank stares on my part.

The tube fascinates me. The movement of it fills my joints and stays with me throughout the day. I wonder what it's like to live in a city that fills you with movement constantly?


July 21, 2007

The other day at the Internet cafe, the person on one side of me was clearly having cybersex with a "Lady of the Internet", while the one on the other side of me was cruising for gay sex on meet up sites. Doesn't anyone just check their email anymore?

A few days ago, I accidentally stumbled into a seedy sex shop full of smarmy men and porn. They seemed as surprised to see me there as I was. And the shitty thing is that they didn't even have the Rock Chick for sale, so the accidental trip was all for naught.

***

Victorian paintings piss me off. Also, old, dead white dudes can bite me.

How can you not love the French Impressionists? They make me smile. Except when they go crazy from lead paint poisoning. That part sucks.


July 22, 2007

Crowds and I do not get along. The longer I'm around a lot of people, the more evil, mean thoughts I have toward total strangers who have done nothing to me. I hate these thoughts and don't want to be that horrible person. Blah. Italians are obnoxious. Had to get that one out in advance.

***

It's funny - at the London airport, they looked at my passport, asked me several questions about what I was doing there and asked to see my return ticket to makes sure I wasn't trying to sneak into the country to stay.

In Rome, the guy barely looked at my passport before tossing it back to me without a word, and, I swear, with a bit of a sneer. He was like, "Yeah, whatever, come to our country. Stay, go, drink some wine. We may fuck you if we feel like it, but maybe not if it's too hot outside. Who the fuck cares?"


July 25, 2007

Trying to explain my vegetarianism to Nonna plays out like a scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I tell her I only eat vegetables and she tries to feed me rabbit. This conversation is common. Even though I don't speak a lot of Italian, I think I was pretty clear.

Nonna: Eat the rabbit.
Savia: I don't eat meat. I only eat vegetables.
Nonna: Eat the rabbit!
Savia: Nonna, I don't eat rabbit.
Nonna: EAT THE RABBIT!!
Savia: Rabbit is not a vegetable!!

Eventually, she rolls her eyes, chugs back a glass of red wine, and gives up on me. Until the next time.

***

There is a framed picture of the Pope grinning maniacally above my bed. It's kind of creepy. I imagine he bites the head off of children while I sleep. I am not a good Catholic girl.


July 30, 2009

I am convinced Nonna screams, "Mange!" (Eat!) in her spare time. The problem is that if you actually ate every time she screamed "Mange" at you, you would get fat, at which point she would get mad at you for being fat (she has no tolerance for fat people.) When I pointed this contradiction out to her, she said, "In Italy, you eat everything and when you get home, no." I think I can live with that.

Rigoletto at the Royal Opera House

I have been blog-blocked as of late, so I thought I'd write an entry I've been meaning to do for two years now, about my experience seeing Rigoletto at the Royal Opera House in London.

The following are excerpts from the travel journal I kept while I was there.

July 21, 2007

I am camping outside the Royal Opera House for tickets. I got here at 9:30 a.m. and there were already a number of people in line in front of me. I hope there are enough tickets for all of us. I really want this experience.

I am quite willing to elbow this old dude for my tickets. One week in the big city has made me hard and callous, and not just my feet!

You'd think we were camped out for a rock concert or at least a rock opera but no, it's Rigoletto in London, baby, which is so much cooler than anything I've seen before. I can hardly contain myself. Some people are all about the clubs and museums, but for me, this is where it's at.

Do you think I could take those cute Brazilian girls? I am bigger than them and the dude with them looks kind of like a wuss.

They've now started pumping opera music at us from the speakers outside the opera house. What cock teases.

When I went yesterday to try and buy tickets, there were only £137 tix left and in order to get them, you had to purchase the entire box, which was £600, or more than $1,500 CAD. Yeah, I think I'll wait in line for the rush £26 tickets, thanks very much.

***

I got the ticket. I think I'm going to cry. No, I know I will. Also, there are going to be 2,500 people there. Look:

There was full-frontal nudity in the first chorus number. How awesome is that? It's all about sex, in Italian, with singing. My dream opera!

The soprano is incredible. There are parts where the orchestra drops out and she goes on a capella for quite awhile and when the accompaniment comes back, she is perfectly in tune. There is nothing quite like the sound of silence from 2,500 people as they hang on to every note. At the end, my chest was tight.

A quickie synopsis for those of you unfamiliar with the opera:

Rigoletto is this hunchback jester who humiliates people at court to amuse the Duke. The Duke is a total man whore. A Count comes by the court all mad at the Duke for doing the horizontal Mambo Italiano with his daughter. Rigoletto is all, "Take that sucker, dude fucked your daughter!" so the Count puts a curse on him. This can't end well. Curses suck.

The dudes at court decide to get Rigoletto back for being an arrogant bully all the time, so they spy on him and see that he's secretly living with a beautiful young woman, whom they think is his mistress.

They decide to kidnap her and deliver her to the Duke's bedroom so he can have his way with her and humiliate Rigoletto. Because rape is totally humiliating to men, and women are just pawns in big elaborate plots, don't ya know.

However, it turns out the Duke and the young woman (Gilda) have been checking each other out in church every week, so she's quite happy to jump his bones. Rape averted. How fortunate. Turns out it's not Rigoletto's mistress, but actually his virgin daughter, Gilda, whom he has been sheltering from the world.

Rigoletto is pissed, because women's virginity is all valuable and owned by men and shit, so he hires a hit man to kill the Duke. He knows that the Duke, being a man whore and all, won't be able to resist the hit man's prostitute sister, so he brings Gilda over to the tavern to spy on the Duke and see for herself that he is a dickwad slut. The Duke even sings the same love song and makes the same proclamations of love on the prostitute as he did on Gilda. Brutal.


Gilda is devastated and cuts off all her hair. Rigoletto dresses her as a man so she'll be safe going home alone, but she overhears the hit man's hooker sister begging him not to kill the Duke, because she's a sucker and loves him. So, they make a plan that instead of offing the Duke, they'll stab the next person to walk in the door, and substitute that body so Rigoletto won't know the difference.

Gilda still loves the Duke because she's a stupid, weak female stereotype, so she knocks on the door and gets stabbed, sacrificing herself to save him.

Chickie, let me give you some advice: when a dude lies to you and sticks his penis into some whore, what you need to do is kick his lying, cheating ass to the curb, make out with his friend, find a new boyfriend with a huge cock, and never look back. Not that I have any experience with this or anything. But seriously, it works. Make a note for next time. Oh, wait, you can't, because you're dead. Idiot.

Rigoletto picks up the body wrapped up in a rug and thinks that he's finally gotten his revenge. As he is about to dump the body in the water, he takes a closer look and finds out - gasp - it's his daughter! She dies in his arms and he's all, "Nooooooooo! It's the curse!!"

The End. Seriously.

I was like, WTF? This is one of the most depressing and devastating plot lines ever. And then I remembered that opera is supposed to be depressing and devastating, so then I was happy.

Best. Experience. Ever.