Every now and then it may happen to see my friend just sitting at some table in some stupid fast-food eating a pretty lonely meal. Funny thing is that he does not particularly like the food served in these places, and he always complains about having to drink half a liter of soda. Anyway, I am digressing too much from the main story. What the reader needs to know is that when the guy hits the fast-food, that is the moment I know I have to bring him to a bar, pour him something to drink, and wait for him to tell me a story. He does not even really know that I like to relate his stories on this website. This makes me feel a bit like Dr. Watson, with the difference that he’s not Holmes, but just a sad human being.

Like in every story so far, the guy is damn drunk, and like in the previous installment he is in L’Aquila. He smiles when talking about this town, even today.
So we are in L’Aquila. He was at some friends’ place before, and they had dinner and drinks. Many drinks. Then they moved to a bar, where they enjoyed a stupid game in which the contestant has to tell, just from the title, what is a song about. Sometimes, our friendly neighborhood hero knows the old song for real, and so tells its story. Sometimes, he just makes up a story for the fun of the moment. At this point, you may have noticed that the game is quite peculiar as he is the only contestant. In fact, there are only three players in this game: our man as the contestant, another Italian guy that reads the titles of the songs and a French girl that just sits there with them and smiles.
In the drunken memories of our guy, this French girl is fairly pretty and is having lots of fun listening to the most fucked up stories that the guy comes up with in his “winey” mind. You do probably think that today’s random girl is this lovely French lady, but you are mistaken. Our random girl is at the same table, but on the far side from our guy, and she is also French. She just arrived and wasn’t at the dinner earlier, so they don’t even introduce to each other, nor do they know each other at all. She is drinking too much tonight , and not just wine but a liquor that everyone from Abruzzo knows to fear: Centerba.
Let’s now move forward in time, until all the people of this particular group, six or seven people, are outside, hungrily looking for something to eat. Now, everyone from L’Aquila knows that if you want to eat something really late at the night, your best chance is to go outside a bakery and buy some freshly baked pizza. So, everyone is outside this bakery; our guy is here, the French girl is here, also other people that they know are here, looking as well for food. Drunk people at night have this tendency to talk with each other, so they start talking while waiting for their food, and even after they are still talking outside the bakery.
He does not recall why or how, but at some point he is leaning on a car, just outside the bakery, and the unknown French girl is hugging him. They are facing each other talking about something that he cannot remember. They may have talked for a while, or maybe just few minutes, he does not remember this either. What he remembers is that at some point they talk about his knowledge of France, Paris, and the French language.  At some point he says her that he knows how to swear in French.
There is a moment in which he looks her in the eyes, their faces close to each other, and says “bordel de dieu”. She looks him in the eyes and kisses him on the lips. The kiss is soft and innocent as one of a first grader. He is frankly shocked at this point, and says to her “Thank you”. She is quite shocked too, and tells him “You don’t have thank a girl if she kisses you”. She then moves out of the embrace, walks a few steps in the opposite direction, almost falls on the ground (luckily for her there are people around with good reflexes, and no, it is not our guy to help her) and starts pucking.

I asked my friend what was this story about, and he smiled to me and revealed that, even if he usually brags about the fact that he never kissed a girl in his whole life, he technically did it that night in L’Aquila. I told him that technically it was her to kiss him and he did nothing except thanking her.
He smiled to me, stood up as to leave the bar and said “My dear friend, look at how far swearing can get you”.