Date 4- Moto Hair & Osso Buco

Along with 2.3 million other dreamy American girls, I studied abroad in Sevilla. While I went there ostensibly to learn Spanish and marry a matador, the best jewel that came from the experience were the friendships with other geeks. One such friend explained to me that she needed a boyfriend with a moto because she had "moto hair"- huge, long and wildly curly. I nodded in understanding when she said this to me; I too have moto hair. Long, blonde and glorious, my leonine mane has been begging to blow in the wind from the back of a motorcycle.

Friday night date- the Italian on a non-school night. I have to walk 30 blocks from my office to our appointed meeting spot to cool down, as I am literally buzzing down the street in nervousness and anticipation. I have a new hair cut and a short skirt (flat boots) and I'm ready make some mistakes. Sorta. I have not shaved my legs or anything else for that matter because although I am wildly attracted to this man, I don't trust him in the least and will adhere to my usual prudish nature.

We hop on his Vespa, my hair whipping in the wind, my heart full of smugness and delight. YES, I AM THAT PRETTY BITCH ON THE BACK OF A VESPA! YES, THIS MAN WEAVES IN TRAFFIC WITH ONE HAND ON MY LONG SUPPLE LEG! We head to Gottino for wine and snackies, then headed back into the night for our next destination. I was looking forward to the next glass of wine but he took my head and led me across the street to a tanning salon.

"Amore, should we tan?"

"Are you serious?"

"Amore, is that strange?"

"Are you serious?"

He had a package of spray tans left over from a trip to Mykonos the previous summer (he spends months of the summer in Mykonos- RED FLAGS), so we took turns. Am I easy going? Is he deranged? This could be the strangest turn yet. We air out, head back into the night with the delightful scent of Oompa Loompa orange trailing us, and head on to the next destination. We pull up in front of a small restaurant in Little Italy because he needs to have a chat with a partner. He is consumed with opening a new restaurant, which I have thus far found totally charming and interesting; restaurant chit chat is my most favorite topic. As we greet the manager, my date launches into a 20 minute conversation in Italian about book keeping. As the conversation winds down, I asked him how much he thought I understood.

"Amore, please...you understood everything." I was thrilled he thought so (because he was right) but unnerved by his blatant rudeness. We head back to our neighborhood in Brooklyn, taking the Brooklyn Bridge to enjoy the view and flying through traffic as only a Milanese who has been on a Vespa since he was 13 could. We head to his apartment to drop off the Vespa and head back out, but wind up in his lair. What a lair it is: amazing rugs from working in the design industry, custom kitchen with walnut cupboards, chic bathroom. This man can DESIGN. AND BUILD. TASTE LEVEL!!! We spend an hour discussing all his renovations before he makes his move. Can you call them "moves" though? Everything this man IS leads to seduction, but I am simply not that girl tonight. We kiss and roll around a bit, but he is so aggressive and shockingly strong that we have to come up with a safe word to ensure my release. Since "no" never really convinces him, "osso buco" becomes my battle cry, and he locks me down under kisses until I holler.

"Ahhhhhh basta, let me go! Marcello, basta!"

Between panting and kisses, "Amore, you didn't use the safe word. Don't use the safe word, amore! DON'T SAY IT!!!"

"OSSO BUCO!"

He releases me with the most exasperated look on his face; who knew "osso buco" could be such a heartbreaker. The night ends with me running out of the apartment and away from his clutches; I am exhausted from holding off his hard yoga body. He hollers as I run, "Do you need a ride home? AMORE?! Why do you leave?"

Never turning back, I walk home. I am slightly tortured and mussed and reek of spray tan, and worry that someone had turned into a Tinder cliche. But who?

FOURTH DATE: MIXED BAG

TRANSPORTATION: STYLISH WITH A FRISKY CHAUFFEUR

DELIGHTFUL BONUS: WAKING UP TORTURED BUT TAN