When the moon hits your eyes like a big pizza pie, that’s amore...
When the world seems to shine like you’ve had too much wine, that’s amore...
Oh yeah, I know someone who’s falling in love. Am I wrong? You’re averting my eyes suspiciously, so I hit the mark. Hey, it’s a good thing, I’m not going to give you hard time for this... or maybe just a little. I’ve been young too and I remember how much this new feeling can be shocking. No hunger, no need to sleep, big amount of energy, a never-ending silly grin plastered on your face... just like a drug. And, in a sense, it’s like a drug, I mean, it has been medically proved. During first months love hits directly the brain and this produces the release of hormones which make you feel so happy and at ease. The same effect is produced by drug assumption. Of course, I’m glad this is love and not drugs.
So, what’s her name? You won’t tell me, will you? Wait... that pretty girl who was here a week ago to help you with American Literature... you spent the day smiling at each other so sweetly... her name... let me think...
Your mom, she likes her, you know, only she isn’t ready to admit it. You’re her baby after all. You’ll be always her baby. She’s jealous and that’s ok. If you had been a girl, I’d have been more than jealous. She’ll get past it. In no time she’ll start wondering when you’ll leave to college or whatever.
Last night she couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned for a while and then tapped my shoulder. I was almost asleep, so she tapped it again and again. She always acts like that when she needs to talk about you. And it makes me smile, because I always remember the first time she did that... at those times she was so afraid she would be a bad mother... oh well, old times. I turned around to face her but she didn’t say anything. She simply stared at me with her puppy eyes. We stood silent for a while, without moving and then I stroke her arm. She moved and shook her head:
“He has a girlfriend”
She stopped. I didn’t know what to do. Was she shocked? Angry? I didn’t know. So, I stared at her inquisitively for a couple of minutes. She went on:
“He’s too young, Luka, he’s only fourteen!”
She was serious, you know. When we are alone like that, in the warm intimacy of our bedroom, she rarely calls me Luka. She has tons and tons of nicks (and I’m not going to write them down). I took her hand, realizing she was trembling a little, attempted a smile and said:
“I’ll talk to him”
She hold my hand stronger and smiled back, reassured. Then she kissed my cheekbone:
“Thank you, pumpkin” (Seen? Lots and lots of nicknames. You’re dead if you’re going to call me using them, ok?)
So, it’s time for our serious talk. I don’t think you’re too young for girlfriends, you’re an adolescence discovering feminine universe. Though I do think you’re to young for sex. I’m going to repeat it: you’re too young for sex. Did you get it? Need me to say it again: too young for sex. Ok? I’m not joking. I’m damn serious: no sex. Don’t challenge me on this subject, I’m not going to change my mind. Never. No sex.
You can hold her hand, going to the movies, buy her ice-cream, kiss her (even if I suspect you have already done it. Just an impression, but your expression is quite understandable). You have millionth things you can do with her. Gabriel, no sex, ok? And I know times are different now but sex still remains something eventful. Believe me, it leaves marks and changes people, and you can’t go back even if you want it. We don’t need you to tell us you made a girl pregnant, ok?
Look, I know you’re thinking I’m crazy, if it hadn’t been for unsafe sex you wouldn’t have been there, so we’re not saints or perfect. But we were both adults, and we did know what it was about, it was a completely different situation. Gabriel, I’m not joking. Please, no sex.
I have finished with my speech. If you need to ask me something, I’m there. I can also listen to you in a medical way, if you want. Don’t risk your health or future, baby.
I love you, baby.
Nota: Le prime due righe sono tratte da That's Amore cantata da F. Sinatra e D. Martin