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About Rome

Last week, my buddy Sal, he’s all, “Larry, you gotta try it!” I’m sittin’ there, neurotic as hell, thinkin’, “What if they judge my back hair? What if I fart mid-massage?” Total nightmare! But then—then!—I go, and this chick’s hands? Like magic, I swear. Soft lights, some cheesy harp music, and I’m meltin’ like a schmuck. “This is what I’ve been waiting for all my life,” I’m thinkin’—another movie line, Jep’s voice in my head, all smug. Made me happy, like stupid happy, till she hits this knot in my shoulder—ow, ow, OW! I’m yellin’, “Ease up, lady, I ain’t a pretzel!” She laughs, I’m mortified, but it’s fine, it’s fine.

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After that, I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy. But then, I step outside, and it’s like the universe is playing a prank. It starts pouring! I’m soaked in seconds. I run for cover under this awning on Via Cavour. I’m standing there, drenched, and I see this couple laughing. They’re all cozy under an umbrella, sharing a bottle of wine. I’m like, “Great, just great. I’m the wet dog in this romantic movie.”

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