Bumbling Abroad #2
DISCLAIMER: I sadly have no photos of Caserta due to the phone I was using getting stolen in Brussels.
Since my first Bumble experience was such a success I figured I would try my luck once more. I had landed a plethora of potential hosts and narrowed down my options by reaching out to two men. One seemed a little more responsive, so I focused on him.
We decided on meeting the following day, Saturday, in Caserta where he was staying with his family. On the surface he was a university teacher living in London and was visiting home for some weddings.
Before heading out to meet him I let him know that although I was willing to try and navigate the bus and metro systems to get to him, I would hold him responsible for driving me back home to Lago Patria. He made a joke, which went something like, “Yes, as long as we don’t hate each other!”
I responded quickly with, “Actually, even if we hate each other you still have to drive me home…” He easily agreed, so I thought nothing of it.
Looking back, this was one of those red flag moments I didn’t know to look out for. Of course, I was looking out for other red flags, like whether seemed creepy, or whether he was a real person, etc., but when it came to signs of general assholy-ness, I skipped over it- probably immune.
My first step towards meeting him was getting on the infamous bus. Obviously, this wasn’t the first time I tried (and failed) to achieve this feat. This time, I had my new hitchhiking friend Pablo to help me translate the complicated website.
Again, I found myself standing on an inconspicuous corner and around the time the bus was supposed to arrive, I actually saw one coming down the street! As instructed, I walked out into the road and waved my arms, so that the bus driver knew to stop. Luckily, I was the only person on the bus so the driver took some time to instruct me on where to go next.
After crushing the first leg of my journey, I had to get to the train, which wound up being an hour or so of a wait. Once on the train, it was another hour and a half.
As I neared Caserta, my stomach began to knot. What was I doing on this 3-hour bus ride to meet a man for the first time, not even in Naples? This was only a few days after my last experience, and though it had went swimmingly, the stress that naturally comes with it was exhausting. Sitting across from me was an old Italian gentleman who, as the train approached the station, tried to strike up a conversation with me in Italian. I told him, “non copisco, sono Americana,” and he started asking everyone else on the bus if they could translate to English because I am an American. I wasn’t super please he announced it, and the chuckles of other’s only confirmed my questioning what I was doing there. I only imagined that they were thinking, “What the hell is an American tourist doing on the train in Caserta?”
Either way, there was no way out of it at this point. We were at the station and I exited the cart and set out in search of my Bumble companion. Yuri flagged me down just outside the station, and the first thing I noticed was that he really didn’t look like his pictures. This always puts me off, because even if I am not looking for attraction, it makes me feel like the person is dishonest. Red flag #2. Regardless, he was friendly and small enough that I felt I could take him in a fight if it came down to it.
He took me around to an old silk factory where there happened to be musicians playing classical music. After that, we drank some beers in the park. I don’t know how to describe Castera other than that it is a big town comprised of small towns with a small community, and it became clear even more so when he kept running into old high school friends of his. After it happened the first time, he said we should “get our story straight” and asked me how he should introduce us, whether it should be as his “girlfriend…” or just some girl he met on Bumble. The question alone made me lean towards, “just some girl,” but it was still early on and I was basically stuck with him in Caserta, so I chose a vague answer, which looking back I regret.
We had a very yummy Spritz (my first in Italy) then another drink, then discussed the rest of the evening’s plan. By this time (about 9:30 PM) back in Lago Patria, Melanie had messaged me that her and Bri were sleepy and wanted to head to bed. This presented a problem because there was no spare key so they would have to get up to let me into the apartment. Meanwhile, we were already a couple of drinks in and he mentioned meeting up with some of his friends after dinner. It was at this point that we discussed the possibility of me crashing at his parent’s house and him driving me home in the morning.
I explicitly mentioned that I didn’t want to hook up, but (as long as he was okay with that) out of ease for both of us, I would stay. He was mostly fine and respectful, but kept asking things of me. Kissing, holding hands… saying that we since we were on a Bumble date, the possibility for attraction was implied. Unfortunately, the more he pushed, the more disgusted I became. I mentioned that I did not want to make out, and when I also said I was uncomfortable with hand holding, he said something to the effect of, “well, you don’t like contact, and I need contact, so how about we hold hands sometimes?”
This is another regrettable moment for me, as I did not punch him in the face. In this situation, I think it’s important to establish that I did not feel threatened or unsafe… but there was a part of me that wanted to make sure the night remained uncomplicated and benign, and the easiest thing for me to do was to reluctantly let him hold my hand for a few seconds at a time.
SIDE RANT: I fucking hate hand holding on the first date. I have had to defend myself twice now on dates with men who I barely know, because I don’t like it when they try and hold my hand. They believe that I have some problems with intimacy because I don’t want to be touched by strangers, but they can go fuck themselves because I find hand holding very intimate, and it is my right to reserve that kind of intimacy for those who I deem worthy of it, AFTER getting to know something. (This will be my new Bumble profile.)
The night started looking up (besides the bouts of him trying to make out with me and hold my hand) when we met up with his friends, who I had a blast chatting with and getting to know (especially because it meant I didn’t have to talk to Yuri.)
Different from the streets of Napoli, tourists don’t really go to Caserta, and I found I was the only non-local in the bustling square where drinking crowds were sharing chats and laughs, and the locals practice their English with me. It was ultimately a beautiful, authentic evening that made up for the Bumble date gone wrong.
Before we knew it, it was 3AM(!?) and finally I felt like I could reasonably ask to go home and to sleep. (I had articulated earlier that I don’t prefer late nights, and he gave me some grief about it. I think at one point he said, “This is my vacation, too.” Charming.) We went home and he asked once more about whether we could hook up (NO) before passing out hard.
I awoke early in the morning, more excited than ever to return back to Lago Patria. I waited as long as I could before waking him up and insisting that he started getting ready to drive me home.
He reluctantly complied and I was relieved. Off of the bedroom was a balcony overlooking Caserta and the mountains behind it. There were roosters crowing in the yard next door, and in one of the neighboring houses a woman yelled at her kid as she quizzed him in math, angry that he wasn’t paying attention. The moment was musical. It started to rain and I relished in it. Truly, the small moments like these make it all worth it. There are no bells and whistles, just life existing as it does for people in Caserta.
The drive home was pretty much silent. I kept thinking of things I could say but decided against it, feeling like the effort wouldn’t be worth the payoff.
Arriving home to a breakfast of pancakes and leftover margarita pizza was ultra satisfying. Although I was grateful for my adventures, I knew that it would be awhile before putting myself through one like that again.
