I never use Tinder. OK, that’s a lie. I hardly use Tinder.

When I’m settled in a city, I typically like to meet the opposite gender the old-fashioned way; I trip over my own two feet, and a guy casually catches me.

Or, in a coffee shop.

OK, I may be living in a fantasy, but those two situations can happen, and have happened, just not to me.

Truthfully, I downloaded Tinder back when I lived in the States for shits and giggles. I then deleted it. This action occurred within a few minutes of each other, and would consistently happen multiple times throughout the given year.

When I moved to Australia, I decided to re-download this app, yet again. I kept a profile, but deleted the app icon on my phone so I didn’t feel too bad about myself. I didn’t have too much luck in either continents when it came to this application.

BUT THEN I CAME TO ITALY, and the Tinder game changed. Oh bless you, Europe.

Now, I should preface, I have a very strong liking toward the Italians. Men and women alike, they’re gorgeous and I get along with them very well. When I stepped off the tarmac in Napoli, my eyes have never darted back and forth so fast before in my entire life. I was surrounded by carbohydrates and beautiful Italians, which the two have no negative impact on one another, just on foreigners; lucky me.

I re-downloaded the app… (this can become a drinking game. Take a shot whenever you read “re-downloaded,” or “re-opened,” you’ll be wasted before I finish this post)… logged back on, and my old profile glared back, mocking me.

I decided since I was traveling alone, I should take advantage of Tinder in a way that most wouldn’t – a way in meeting the locals and hope to get an insiders view on the city I was visiting. Little did I know, my self-esteem would soar to equal my daily steps taken.

I want to state that when I re-downloaded (shot) the app, my former matches came up, but I didn’t take into account those numbers; I’m using it as the start of my Italian journey. I had a total of 50 matches from a combination of two continents, and I would reset that number back to 0 for the start of this Tinder escapade. My matches would rapidly increase within the first month of being in Italy and would plateau in the last couple of weeks.

I re-opened the app on October 14, 2016 and began swiping.

NAPLES

I was matched 10 times with five new messages all in the time span of three minutes, and I had only been in the country for less than an hour. I always hear these horror stories of guys starting off with infamous “pick-up lines,” presumably heard from Micky Avalon, so they think that’ll work, as if crudeness is attractive. Because of this, I’m always fully prepared with a response that will remind them of the immediate women in their life. But when in Italy, these guys are simple. They just say “hello,” or perhaps they’ll include your name after the greeting.

In my innocent minutes of swiping, I swiped on a blonde man with blue eyes. Not your stereotypical Italian look, but I didn’t care, his name was Italian enough for me.

“Hey :)”

He seemed harmless with a touch of charm. So I responded with what becomes my go-to response to every new message: “Hey, how’s it going.” Or if the person comes right out with Italian, then I switch to: “ciao, come va?” Yeah, I’m adaptable to languages.

“what ru doing in Naples?”
“I’m traveling all over Italy – Naples is my first stop.”
“That’s amazing, how many days in Naples?”
“Only four days unfortunately :/”
“Why don’t we meet?”

WHY, BUT OF COURSE.

He was an hour late, but I was nursing a beer so I said I didn’t mind (but really I did). I was dressed head-to-toe in black and he was head-to-toe in navy. Together, we were a clash in fashion, but whatever, we weren’t in a fashionable city anyways. We knocked back a negroni each, explored the historical centre, and then he took me for a ride in his car, back to his place. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit disappointed that he didn’t whip out his vespa. Here I am, just trying to live out my Lizzie McGuire dream.

Anyways, I had hiked Mt. Vesuvius earlier that morning and told him about it. He then responded that he lived right in between Naples and Vesuvius. So when I arrived at his apartment, I was speechless. He lived on the top floor, with a private roof. Mt. Vesuvius hovered in the background to the left, and the city lights were to the right. You can say I easily caved. Probably the best fornication setting I will ever be in, in my life.

The time went by fast, yet slow enough to enjoy the few hours we spent together. He drove me back to my Airbnb and we kissed goodnight. The next morning, we were following each other on all social media accounts and had become friends. That same morning I headed off to the Amalfi coast. Sadly, not much luck there, but I did meet a very friendly Italian man at the bus stop who generously walked me all the way to my Airbnb. The only thing I could say at the time was “grazie mille” repeatedly.

ROME

After a week in the sun and rain on the coast, I then moved on to the capital, Roma. My matches increased and the men were more talkative than Neapolitan men. I missed the charm and looks of the men in the south, as they had been the most attractive thus far, but then I received a notification of a super-like.

I clicked on his profile and began to scroll through the pictures. His most recent photos showed Japan and his bio was also in Japanese. We have a connection already, I thought to myself, having recently been to Japan a few weeks ago. I swiped right.

“hi abby.”
“hello, how’s it going?”

we briefly chat about how we are.

“what brings you to Italy?”

A question that is asked of me from every match. I gave him a generic reason as to why I was exploring his country of origin and inquired about Rome’s hidden gems.

He then switched gears and became a helpful guide who gave me top suggestions of places to go visit and see. We eventually bonded over Japan and our love for classic cocktails, a.k.a. old fashions for him and negronis for me.

I bit the bullet and asked, “which night are you free? Interested in exploring with me? hahaha” The laugh followed was to make it seem like a joke, in case he decided to say no. Luckily he didn’t.

He picked me up from my dodgy hostel at 11 p.m.

I hopped into the car and saw his handsome face in reality. My face practically depicted the heart-eyed emoji. He was gorgeous. With a black fedora resting on the back of his head, his fashion was on point, even though he smelled like Abercrombie & Fitch. We drove all over Rome that night and talked as if we were old friends. Conversation flowed like the river we were driving alongside, and my heart was pumping extra fast. Quickly the night went into morning and there we were, sitting in his car at 3 a.m. We constantly grazed each other’s hands, and for a moment he rested his hand on my leg. I wanted to kiss him, but did he want to kiss me? The night concluded with no kiss, but an intimate hug. I walked back to my room, flustered with adrenaline.

My phone lit up.

“was amazing night. u re brilliant girl. hope to meet u soon.”

That was it. I fell in love with a man who literally ticked off everything on my “list.” I always told myself I wouldn’t move anywhere for a man, but I would trash that thought for him in a heartbeat.

I was in Rome for two more days, but would return in late November, where we would meet up again. Will there be a kiss then? I sure hope so.

FLORENCE

There I was on the train, riding away from Rome with much hope and yearning from the night before. And then I arrived in Firenze. OK, I cannot dwell on the past for I will see him again. So I re-opened Tinder to see the prospects.

I quickly matched with a man of research in the ecology field. His bio read, “bounty hunter by day, cook by night. I like stuff etcetera. Hobby: answering stupid questions.”

Firstly, he spelt out “etcetera,” who does that anymore? Secondly, he looked like Tarzan; I was not entirely against him.

“evening there.”

Are you a Southern cowboy?

“How long are you here for?”
“until Tuesday!”
“Cool! Would you fancy a beer + a nice view of the city?”
“always”
“Perfect. Tonight? Tomorrow?”

Alright, easy now tiger. You gotta wait until Sunday, two days from now. And sure enough, he did.

He delivered on all fronts: the Tarzan look, the beers, and the nice view of Florence. He picked me up around 11 p.m. and we drove up into what seemed like the mountains. We sat on a bench overlooking the city lights, drinking Birra Moretti, which tasted like beer-flavoured water. It really was a spectacular view though. Conversation with him was dull and he was way too into himself, but he was smart…? I humoured him with some ecology knowledge that I dug up from the back of my brain, and talked about snails. We ended up talking about cats and the stereotype of Asians who eat cats, and on that subject, he leaned in and kissed me. I wouldn’t say that was the right timing, but it happened.

We then went back to his place which was currently under renovation. Dust covered the floor and plastic tarps draped over the furniture. His apartment was part of an old villa that underwent construction to turn into multiple apartments. His place was the smallest out of the complex, but was beautiful regardless. We walked into what would be the living room space, and I stood in the middle of the room gazing up at the original artwork on the ceiling. He walked up to me, picked me up, and propped me onto the dining table and went for it in true caveman-like style.

“what do you like?”

I stumbled around for words as no man has ever asked me what I liked in bed, let alone a man I had met two hours ago. I muttered something and he attempted.

In Napoli, I was in the best sex setting I would ever be in in my life; in Firenze, it was the best sex I have ever had in my life.

And during this momentous time, all I could think about was the Roman.

MILAN

After a wild encounter in Florence, I left for the city of business suits and pigeons; I reckon the ratio between the two is quite equal.

Tinder in this city is quite selective. Probably because they’re all politicians, business men, and are aged 30+ and have no interest in this wandering Asian. I didn’t take it to heart as my matches reluctantly increased.

I matched with two men at the ages of 24 and 32.

With the other Italian cities, I stayed there long enough to have eventually met up with the men. But in Milan, I was planning on staying for only two nights, but would be back to the city on three separate occasions throughout the month. Needless to say, these guys liked me enough to exchange numbers and remain in contact until the next time I came back to Milano.

Despite the lack of architectural beauty in the city, and how un-entertained most Italians find the city to be, I wish I stayed here for a continuous week. Milan is close to a lot of beautiful towns, ie: Bergamo, Lago di Como, Verona, and Brescia. A great starting point for day trips to these gorgeous towns. The main city itself is only entertaining for a full day, if that. But most locals glorify the night life – clubbing. Perhaps when I’m back in school I’ll enjoy the act of clubbing again, but for now, I’m OK with staying in with a bottle of red Chianti.

My Tinder game wasn’t quite on par in Milan as it was in the other cities, but the company I had during my time spent here was quite fun. I stayed in an Airbnb in the city centre with two men who acted like fraternity brothers. One ate cheese by the block and the other was an avid skateboarder. We held some interesting conversations, vacillating between politics and Tinder, as the two have so much in common. As we exchanged opinions, one of the guys discovered a potential and exclaimed, “oh! this woman’s 51 but she definitely doesn’t look it, see?!” While the other one refuses to download the app as he’s sure he’ll see familiar faces and doesn’t want to put himself in an awkward position. It’s a catch 22, and sometimes it’s just a good laugh to run into a Tinder match on the street.

Rome pt II. 

It happened.

We sat in his car, once again chatting about life. His pronunciation of English words were cute and I was trying my best to help him as he had helped me with my Italian. We held hands, he played with my hair, and we laughed. He leaned in and gave me a tender kiss on the cheek, and I brazenly said, “a kiss on the cheek!” He looked into my eyes, tilted his head, and I finally got my bacio. It was everything and nothing I expected; the best of two worlds. The passion was so intense, the windshield of his Fiat 500 fogged up.

“Come back with me.”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

The house was beautiful; an Italian vintage aesthetic with Fiats lined up in the garage, and his two Akitas skipped down the driveway to greet the stranger. I met his brother and friend before he guided me into the house.

The guest room was where we spent the unexpected night together. I stood next to the bed, with his black Vans shirt on, waiting. He came back to the room, and wrapped his arm around my waist and leaned in for kiss. With one fell swoop, he picked me up and tossed me onto the bed. The roughness added to the passion was unanticipated, and yet was everything I wanted in that night. We laid there in bed, his body pressed to mine and his hand intertwined in mine, we rested. Ever so often, I would feel a light kiss on my shoulder or head as a reminder that he was still there next to me. Like a PG-13 version of 50 Shades of Grey, I was entranced in his embrace. The love bites matched the intensity, and on the next day I could trace back to where those exact bites occurred on my body. Something to remember him by, until we hung out again in two days, and then again in London.

A lust that blossomed in Italy would continue onto British soil, and hopefully would spread continentally in a few weeks time.

FINALE

On November 26, 2016 I stopped swiping.

This Italian Tinder experience was something I didn’t plan on participating in until the day of my arrival. Everyone who I met through this app added to the excitement in this country. As a person who only ever travels alone, the use of Tinder was an ingenious way of not only getting to meet locals, a way of seeing the country from a local’s point of view, but a great way in learning a new language. Should something more happen, then it happens. But it definitely wasn’t the first thing on my mind when I re-downloaded the app and began swiping. Granted there will always be those who use the app for it’s original use of pleasure, but surprisingly, most men were quite respectful and genuine in helping a traveler out.

As I continue my travels onward to London and Scotland, I probably won’t be utilising the app anymore, and will most likely terminate it once I arrive in the States. But a part of me wants to keep Tinder for the conversations, and for the occasional self-esteem boost. I mean, I now have 150 matches. Technically 100 since I started off with 50, but regardless, I matched with 100 Italian men during my time spent in the country; that’s quite a lot. My match count may be 1/3 of the matches some girls have, but hey, it’s 150 more than I could have ever imagined.

I met some charming men, held some captivating conversations, and had some thrilling experiences. I concluded my month and a half tour of Italy with much arousal, affection, and appreciation for one of the most memorable countries I’ve ever explored. My Italian is still a bit spotty, but I’m determined to learn the language to its fluency and hope to return again to explore it’s countryside and perhaps reunite with some of those former matches. But until then, I’m putting Tinder away, sussing out my Roman relation, and focusing on career goals; a healthy balance.