The German

I met a boy in Rome. Of course in Rome. But he's not from Rome, he's from Germany. Of course. He's very sweet and very handsome and he lives a hundred million miles away. And because we only spent two evenings together, and because he's such a mystery, I am very attracted to the idea of getting to know him better and (possibly?) visiting him. Or him visiting me. We've been emailing long letters and photos, but I have to wonder if any of it will amount to anything. Yes, it's nice to have him as a contact . . . a friend, even, but where will it go, if anywhere? And it's not like I am trying to take the spontaneity or impetuousness out of anything, I'm just wondering if it's worth all the thought I've already given it, which, for the record, has been too much. I guess we'll see. . .