When in Rome, Do as the Romans ---NOT

I stayed at a hotel with a friendly owner, concierge guy. He as always greeting me jovially when I arrived, made great suggestions on what to do, see and eat. When I came back from my days of exploring, I would sit with him and have a digestif and practice my Italian....more like listen to Italian because he was a chatterbox, but whatever, he seemed harmless. He was probably older than my father and being the helpful, friendly hotel-owner---harmless right?
It was my birthday while I was in Rome and he suggested we needed to “celebrate”. Ok, sure, a drink when I come back from exploring one day. My friends were in town too, so I was busy hanging out with them. The night before I was leaving to come back home, he suggested we “celebrate” before I left for good. Since I had no plans, I said sure and waited till he finished his shift so that we could dine together. No harm, like I said, he seemed harmless.
He took me to a restaurant that I had gone to for my birthday. The cute waiter remembered me and flirtatiously greeted me. I told my “old man dinner companion” I think the waiter might be flirting with me. You should have seen the jealously that came over his face. I was shocked and thought, uh-oh, this is going to get uncomfortable and weird. I think the waiter sensed it too because he sent a female colleague to serve us. Dinner was finally over and I just wanted to crawl into my hotel bed. I had come down with the flu to top it all off. In the car, my dinner companion says “Do you want to go to the hotel or you could come home with me. I have a big bed and I can make you a good cafe in the morning.”
Are you serious? This can’t be happening! Uh-oh, “Sorry, I misinterpreted this dinner celebration, sorry you are too old for me.” Did he actually think I would go home with him? Uh....one, way too old, but two, I am paying for a hotel room at HIS hotel, but I want to go sleep at his house? What?
Luckily, he didn’t make it more awkward than it already was, took me back to the hotel and I made my great escape to my room, locking the door tight. Thank god, I was leaving the next day.
When I got back to America, an Italian guy I met through my friends sends me an email saying “I called the hotel several times while you were there (our mutual friend gave him the number) because I wanted to see you and show you around. Too bad, I didn’t get a hold of you. I left messages.”
Huh? Whenever I came back to the hotel, I always stopped by the reception to say hi to my friendly owner and ask if anyone called for me. Some days no one called or other times, my female friend called. Never any messages from my new Italian suitor. Huh?
So much for harmless and friendly! The old geezer was screening my calls! Forza Italia!