Bruno, The Italian Stallion, Whips It out!

BRUNO THE ITALIAN STALLION…

This is the story of Bruno, THE ITALIAN STALLION! (His name for himself…NOT mine. Oh. And Bruno is not his real name. But it’s close.)

Having picked my heart up off the ground several times after multiple disappointments with Mike, I ventured onto match.com. I was still relatively new to online dating when I met Bruno.

Bruno had a very suggestive picture. He is standing in a doorway, shirtless,  wearing a pair of faded jeans. The button on his jeans is undone and the zipper only slightly unzipped. He had a shaven head, dark eyes and a great body with a well defined core. He was tight and toned.

I thought to myself, “Hmm. 55 years old? That’s intense! What’s wrong with this picture?”

Bruno was obsessed with my breasts. So I basically ignored him for a long time. I have NO idea what changed my mind. I suspect my libido was the one making the decision when I agreed to meet him for a glass of wine in the West suburbs at a well-known steakhouse. He seemed to be oozing with test testosterone. While it’s not my usual practice, thinking from your lower center of gravity, is not exclusive to men.

I was a little nervous because my initial instinct was to avoid this guy.  I was still relatively new to dating, having been off the market since 1984. I was expecting a tower of a man who was both virile and in great shape.

Are you familiar with the greeting card series, Ziggy? It was very popular at one time.  Ziggy was a little bald, nebbish of a guy who appeared to be rather frail .

As I stood in the bar looking for a man like the one in the picture, he was nowhere to be found. Imagine  my surprise when I was approached by a small frail man carrying a “murse” (“man purse”), and wearing Birkenstocks, white socks and a down vest. (The significance of the down vest will be made clear later.) It turns out, that Bruno was a bodybuilder gone bad from decades of chomping down anabolic steroids before bodybuilding competitions. . He could have been the poster child against anabolic steroid use. He moved slowly and cautiously. Evidently the picture on match.com was 12 years old.

I felt somewhat deceived because my picture was maybe a month old. I believe in full disclosure when it comes to appearances. Anything short of that seems absolutely futile unless you have no intention of ever meeting. I chose to ignore my instincts once again, and try to keep an open mind, in spite of the fact that I had been deceived.

As I sipped my Pinot Grigio he regaled me with stories of his poor health from having taken too many steroids as a body builder. Evidently he was riddled with arthritis. He’d had a back surgery, knee surgery and hip surgery by the time he was 55. I had recently  lost 40 lbs. from working out vigorously. This not only reversed any symptoms of arthritis, but my doctor told I grew a half an inch taller! I’m also incredibly limber. However, prior to having gotten that kiss from Mike I was physically a mess. So I could relate to his joint pain.

His stories brought out the nurturer in me. I found myself wanting to comfort and take care of him. As I sat across from him listening to his tales of woe, I thought to myself, I could make this work. . Having been in sales for 30 years, I’ve since discovered that this inclination of mine has much more to do with a desire to “close the deal”, out of habit.

We seemed to get along okay. He did most of the talking. I thought we might share a second glass of wine. But he mentioned it was getting late for him and he needed to go home to bed. It was about 10 o’clock.

He paid the check and grabbed his murse. I thought it was very sweet that he was walking me to my car

Snow had just begun to fall and was gracefully illuminated by the light poles in the parking lot. There was a beautiful silence in the air that seems to accompany snow. It was a very romantic setting and I was eager for romance.

 “Where are you parked?, He asked. I indicated slightly down the way, under one of the light poles. The pavement was slippery. I was wearing high-heeled boots and although it was only a 2 ½ inch heel I towered over him. I took his arm.

When we arrived at my car he leaned in to give me a kiss goodnight. (I admit I was delighted at the thought of being kissed. I love kissing, particularly having been without it for so long.)

He kissed me! Yay! (I need to make it clear that what transpired next, occurred in probably less than two minutes.)

I was trying to savor the fact that I was actually being kissed, when before I knew it, his teeth were on my tongue and he shoved his finger in my mouth! WTF!

I’m thinking “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” If he’s thinking his finger is a precursor for something else, this little guy is dreaming!

I backed away, still wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He was still holding me as turned my face away from his and said, “Bruno, Chill!” In other words, “Down Sparky!”

When I told my friends the story, they were incredulous and asked me, “Weren’t you frightened?”

No! Fear never even occurred to me. He was an overly zealous, frail little man who moved slowly and was wildly arthritic. I had no doubt but that I could knock him flat on his bony little ass if necessary. Alas, I digress…

His next move was to shove his fingers down my throat. I wasn’t having it. I pulled his hand from my mouth to which his response was, he was going to try and mount me. He started grunting while jumping up at me in his Birkenstocks in an effort to mount me.

Have you ever seen the show Blue Man Group? You know how they throw themselves against the wall while wearing suits made of Velcro? That was Bruno and I was the wall. Unfortunately for him however, he lacked Velcro. The down vest caused him to just slide down my chest.

I started to laugh and said, “You’re kidding me. Right?”

When that failed, he reached down and said, “Give me your hand.”

“What ?”

“Give me your hand!” in his feeble attempts at using a seductive tone.

At this point I couldn’t help but notice he was fidgeting with something underneath the slippery down vest. Evidently he was reaching for his “manhood”.

“Give me your hand.” He repeated as he starts to take my hand.

“What for?” I said, pulling my hand back and raising it above my head.

 “No…. You’re not doing what I think you’re doing… I said, incredulously.

“Give me your hand” he repeated.

“No! We’re done here.” Now I was pissed. I pushed him to the side. I think I scared him a little because he scampered off to his little Porsche in a heartbeat.

I got in my car and drove off. I was reeling on the way home, wondering “what have I gotten myself into? Who the hell are these guys? Why am I subjecting myself to this garbage?

But I have since learned there are some really great guys out there.

THE LESSON: Listen to your gut! I was getting bored, and I rejected this guy repeatedly before ever agreeing to meet him. No matter how bored or tedious the process may become, DON’T LOWER YOUR BAR in the name of humanity or anything else for that matter! ! Particularly considering that, in theory, when you meet someone they are presumably showing you their Sunday best!

In keeping with the theme of full disclosure, I have to admit in an effort to remain open to all possibilities, this was not the first fool I suffered gladly while engaging in online dating.

Ziggy!