There are some days when I am forced to take a few steps back from my work and say, “You know, that was shit. That was certainly, definitely, feces.”

Sometimes even I admit that I need to take down the negativity a few notches. My last post is a prime example. I attempted to be clever but only came off as a hysterical, reactionary, bile-spewing shrew. You would never guess that I actually enjoyed the movie, would you? Of course not. I didn't say a single positive thing about it. All in the name of humor, which I also mostly failed at.

So while I retreat into the black folds of my mind for some soul-searching and introspection, here are some love letters that I got from a strange Italian woman and their accompanied translations. Special thanks to my friend Monica for those translations. Yes, I may have an Italian name but I don't speak a word of it. Also, I'm actually Hispanic. I've got what I call Al Madrigal syndrome: I may look white, but I'm actually Latino. So I get the unfortunately-won perks of straight white male privilege from our patriarchal neo-racist society, but I also get to cash in on that sweet, sweet Affirmative Action money. I know how awful that sounds but I already feel bad enough just by existing.

These letters get bonus points, because it inspired the person translating them to become a licensed sex therapist, for which she has just received her certification overseas. Congratulations Monica! This post is for you.

I will not reveal the name of this person. All I can tell you from memory is that one day, I was watching for query letters (before I found out my novel was doomed. DOOMED I SAY!), and this little gem popped in. I thought maybe it might be spam, but my email provider is pretty good at catching spam mail, so I thought I'd humor it.

Subject: I:

Anch'io vorrei sentire le tue braccia stringermi forte....sentirmi dire "ti porto via"..."sei l'unica che voglio accanto a me" ma...poi torno con i piedi per terra e con la mente al passato....sospiro...e continuo a pensarti.

That was it. It didn't ask for my credit card or tell me that I'd won the lottery. It just had... some words in a foreign language. Being a curious sort, I popped them into Babel fish and discovered it was a love letter. Which was weird, because I didn't recall giving my email address to any strange Italian women (with the exception of Monica, of course).

Babelfish spewed out some junk about wishing to have my arms wrapped tight around her, to hold her close and then.... some gobbledegook. I wish BabelFish lived up to its name, i.e., actually translating instantly anything ever said to me in any form of language (And also proving the non-existence of god in the process), but we as humans are just getting over the neatness of digital watches, so our technology has a ways to go.

I waited. She must clearly have emailed me by accident.

And then another one came in.

Subject: Sarai sempre il mio più grande amore. Che posso farci? Questo è. Ma il mio cuore e la mia testa non viaggiano all'unisono .

The message itself was empty.

Ha ha, okay, it's all very entertaining and all but surely there's been some kind of mistake... I can just safely ignore it and oh my god another one just came in:

Subject: Buongiorno mon amour!

The message was empty again. But I could sit idly no more! I didn't want to torture this poor European jewel. It was time to let her go.

And I turned to my noble friend, BabelFish, for a quick sendoff.

In retrospect I really, really shouldn't have used BabelFish. Because I tried to do the traditional Giando Thinks He Is Clever But Isn't Really Response, and it really, really doesn't translate well.

I replied:

I don't think I am who you think I am... and I'm afraid I don't speak Italian either. Here's an extremely rough translation made by a machine of what I just typed:

Ho don ' t think I ' m chi pensi temo em.... e I mi don ' t parlano italiano o. Here s una traduzione estremamente approssimativa fatta da una macchina di ciò che ho appena digitato

Her response:

? ? ? ? Eeh?

Okay, so maybe I had just sent her a bunch of indecipherable gobbledegook translated from BabelFish. Understandably, she was confused.

I know! I'll write back to her in a language she does not understand. That will surely work.

I wrote:

Do you know English? I'm sorry but I don't know any Italian...

Okay, I realized that I had as much chance of reaching her in English as she had of reaching me in Italian. I'll just tell her I don't speak Italian. I took to the internet and found a polite, grammatically correct way to say, “I don't speak Italian,” in Italian.

Me again:

Lo non parlo italiano.

She replied:

Ma mi prendi per il culo.??

When I put that into Babel fish... well. It didn't translate very well.

But it was feces. Certainly, Definitely feces.

It was time to take matters into my own hands! Or more likely, my friend Monica's hands. She knew Italian and I didn't. Meanwhile, the emails kept coming:

Subject: Senza nome

Ok.

Oh good! Maybe she did understand.

Quindi? ? ?

Mi spieghi Che cavolo facevi stamani? ?

Nope. I just confused her more, and was likely making things worse. Meanwhile, I got Monica's response. She was very amused. And now I finally got to see what these emails had said.

Oh, Giando ... she's got it bad. I've put the translations for you underneath in blue.

To actually tell her what you were trying to say (with the added addition of why you can suddenly write in Italian):

I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm the person you think you're writing to. Also, I don't speak Italian. I asked a friend of mine to write this for you. Again, I'm sorry.

Mi dispiace, ma penso che non sono la persona con pensi stai scrivendo. Anche, non parlo Italiano. Ho domandato una amica mia a scrivere questo per te. Nuovamente, mi dispiace.

If there's anything else you want me to write or translate for you, let me know! Are you sure this isn't just random spam? Random Italian spam?

 ~Monica

Annnndddd..... at last, here are the translations.

Subject: I:

Anch'io vorrei sentire le tue braccia stringermi forte....sentirmi dire "ti porto via"..."sei l'unica che voglio accanto a me" ma...poi torno con i piedi per terra e con la mente al passato....sospiro...e continuo a pensarti.

I also want to feel your arms around me, holding me tight ... hear you say "I'll take you away" ... "you're the only one I want beside me" but ... then I come back to reality with both feet on the ground, with my mind on what happened ... sigh ... and I continue to think of you.

Um.... I don't recall telling anyone that I would take them away... Although, if I do say so myself, I'm pretty great at cuddling.

Subject: Sarai sempre il mio più grande amore. Che posso farci? Questo è. Ma il mio cuore e la mia testa non viaggiano all'unisono .

You will always be my greatest love. What can I do? This is it. But my heart and my mind aren't on the same path together.

Greatest love?! Wait! waaaaiiiitttt. This is not what I signed up for! Did I unknowingly spend quality time with a mysterious European minx? Am I... *GASP* A WERELOVER?

Subject:Buongiorno mon amour!

 Good morning, mon amour!

Here's where I put in my totally illegible BabelFish reply. And then came her response.

? ? ? ? Eeh?

Me:

Do you know English? I'm sorry but I don't know any Italian...

Lo non parlo italiano.

Her:

Ma mi prendi per il culo.??

Are you giving me shit?? (She's basically asking if you're taking the Mickey, to use that fun old phrase)

See, I was right! Feces.

Subject:Senza nome

No subject

Ok.

I thought it was over, then. It was not.

Quindi? ? ?

So???

Mi spieghi Che cavolo facevi stamani? ?

Tell me What the heck did you do this morning??

Oh no! I was toying with her mind! The poor woman was going mad. What have I done? I've driven her crazy! She will hate me forever, and she doesn't even know who I am!

...Or at least I thought. Because after all this, she was ready to forgive me. She sent me one final email, and a parting gift:

..sempre vicino a me.

.. always close to/with me.

Yep. You read that right. She sent me a white rose and a heart-shaped rock. You know what the weirdest thing about all this is? I swear, when I saw that rock, I thought it looked familiar.

Likely it's just another heart-shaped rock in a world that is literally made of them, but when I first saw that thing, I swear I'd seen it before. Maybe it's from a movie or something and somebody was fucking with me.

But anyway, after that lovely image, I decided it was time to let my mysterious Italian lover go. I sent Monica's translantion, and I never heard from her again.

I honestly cannot understand how this happened. My email address isn't listed in any public places (that I know of), and is a pun that only makes sense in English. And my name, as cool as it is (literally the one thing that I can thank my parents for), is not exactly common. So of course the only possible conclusion I can come to is that there is another Giando Sigurani out there, breaking hearts all over Europe and leaving familiar-looking rocks with his conquests. My Italian lover, knowing only her lover's name, looked it up, and came here. Even though she came to the wrong place, it's nice to know that romance isn't dead. 

Well, fare thee well, Italian lover, and fare thee well, other Giando. 

Also, don't you dare publish a novel. I will fucking cut you.