It was a business luncheon and I was surrounded by people more brilliant than I; kind but brilliant. 

The meal had come to an end and it was time to take our leave. The restaurant we were in was a "Slow Food" dive, a label for places serving local products prepared the local way. To boot, there are natives serving it up - possibly the best kept secret in this town. It was lovely, really.

The other people in our party were standing in the doorway, coats on and ready to step out into the pouring rain. I was last pulling mine from the hooks on the wood-paneled wall and felt an inner need to hurry. I struggled with my sleeves, tried to keep my gloves from falling onto the floor, but eyes across the room spied my stress and bustle, and came striding toward me in a calm and gentlemanly way.

He was the boss of the place; with greying hair and a stance that speaks to a handsome and playboy past, he took my coat from my hands and murmured in a most soothing voice:

"Signora, you are a beautiful woman (ah, sweet Italians). Don't hurry. You never have to rush. There will always be men enough for you."

And he held the door as I stepped out into the rain. 

Did you know that there will always be men enough for you? Women enough; people enough; warm hands enough; love enough - for you.