Italy II

She had been reading when I walked by the living room, I was coming down from the rooftop terrace where I had been reading and enjoying the sun. I stopped to say hi, to exchange a few pleasantries and maybe to get to know her better. We had been tip-toeing around each other for a few days, in a very respectful and tender manner.
She; because she seems shy and a tiny bit intimidated
(his words; not mine); me, because I am curious and very respectful of what *they* have.
He; my ex, my first boyfriend in Italy, and (with time) one of my best friends, and her; the tall, dark Brazilian girl (she is actually a woman) with the soft manners and the curious eyes.

Now the living room was buzzing with smalltalk, Nix, his brother, the painter and the little mad bookbinder had all joined us.
She had been reading a childrens' book, written and illustrated by one of Nix's friends.
She was sitting there, impossibly long legs assembled in a lotus-like pose under her, book in her lap and hands gesturing to explain herself in Italian. She was beautiful, in a childlike way; long neck gracefully bending as she looked at us in turn over her glasses and spoke and smiled.

I zoned out of the smalltalk and wondered; as often; what it is we look for in love. She is probably everything opposite of me.
It seems we have very few things in common, it seems to me we couldn't be more different from each other.
And yet he fell in love with me once and is now very much (and very obviously) in love with her.

It set me wondering.
Because, while I always fell for a certain type of guy; very loud men, alpha-males, physically big and well-spoken, now I don't feel attracted to that type of guy anymore. It's not because I have had bad experiences (I have, but that's not the point) - I think I am changing with age.
I think that is the case with my friend too.
I see he's happy and I think they're good for each other.
It makes me believe there's hope for me out there too, no small feat =).

When he took me to the station early in the morning to catch the train to Milan, I asked him (out of the blue; it's fun, he can take it, and as an unspoken rule we never speak seriously about love. Not because we can't but because love is never to be taken seriously.)
"Is she the one? Is it luuuuuuuuurve ?"
He chuckled (I knew he would) and answered me something vague (I knew he would).
It was enough of an answer anyway.
He's a goner.