il donnaiolo de luxe. (A:XI)

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"Nothing good happens after 2 a.m." - Ted's mom.

Don't you love it when couples tell you the story of how they met? I don't. Them clinging to that last inch of romance tells you more about the paltriness of their current love-life than you want to know.

Instead, here's a piece of advice: If you spend the night at a pub where they play good rock & roll, you had better speak Italian. Why?

Because a few chairs down the bar your eyes might meet those of one hell of a goddess. And if you're lucky, she might even start to smile when she realizes you're actually looking at her and not the handsome young man in a leather jacket right next to her. And, once she has made it all the way down to you and you've listened to how she makes ends meet by working at the theatre and how she only meets queer actors there, she might give you her number and offer you to listen to that story all over again but this time lying on her bed naked while having a smoke and dwelling in that beautiful post-coital depression. Then you might find that for some inconcievable reason the language of your phone is set to Italian and right below her number you are given two choices you can't possibly understand. All you know is that one of them is to save her number and one is to discharge it.

And then the clock strikes 2 a.m. and it's too late for the night to go any other road than down the crapper. They say if you're drunk, you suddenly understand languages you've no way of knowing. Well, Italian isn't one of them. So if I spoke Italian, I'd be more than inclined to tell you the story of how D. and I met. But I don't, so I can't.

Because nothing good happens after 2 a.m.