Sesso e la Città Eterna: Wheeee?

Vomiting & nausea: an unfortunate occasional side effect of riding a rollercoaster...

The SO is a multinational mutt: half French, half Italian. Raised in Rome, the south coast of France & North Africa. Speaks Italian, French, Arabic, & English

(It's so cute when he screws up in English. "Amore, where are my underwears?" Tesoro, thanks to that statement you won't be needing them for a while. Trust me.)

Am in desperate need of holidays. Work is kicking my ass and there's no workers comp for going prematurely grey. So tickets have been bought & for a week in August we'll be staying at his family home as his entire family converges in one place: a brother, a niece, 4 sisters, a nephew, mother, father, & an aunt that helped raise him.

I've met most of them at one point or another. To a one, they are all absolute nutters. I mean that in a good way; Middle Sis can well attest that our family has its fair share of pathological psychodramatic personality quirks. No casting of stones from me.

SO leaves on the 31st of July due to work; because I parleyed a work fuckup by a colleague into extra time off, I leave on the 29th. With one of his sisters who lives here in Rome.

What the fuck was I thinking?



I'm scared shitless. No, scratch that. I'm Fucking Terrified. Capital F, capital T. I have this sinking feeling that the undercurrent of this trip is a big formal presentation to the family (at least from their POV) & I. Am. Fucking. Terrified.

Did I mention I. Am. Fucking. Terrified? Dear christ, what if he does something insane like proposes while we're there? In front of his family? I think I'd faint. And then I would get 5 million frequent flyer miles from the massive guilt trips from certain members of my family who would probably get pissed off because they weren't there.

And, oh god, I cringe in anticipation of the "So when are you two going to have kids?" or worse yet "When are you going to have kids, SO?" like I'm just the Nearest Convenient Womb.

I think I'd better go find a paper bag to breathe into now.