Come here often, Big Boy?

Jackie May: I have fallen in love. He is tall, handsome and perfectly built.

Some would disagree and say that his hands are slightly out of proportion. I see only their strength and the potential for unspeakable things.

My love's eyes are intense. There is a frown across his young brow. His lips are pursed. He is expecting trouble. (From me, I hope.)

When I first meet him, it's not his beautiful face that hits me softly across the head like a ton of butterflies, but his muscular, lithe body which, in contrast to the tension in his face, is relaxed.

There are no defects in this naked, 5.17m male body.

The problem with my new love interest is that I share him with 400000 passionate Florentinians, and millions of tourists. Madeline, the tour guide who introduced me to this love has not married. She is in love with the man she claims is her fiance.

Her man, my new man, is that exquisite, untouchable 600-year-old marble sculpture, David. He lives in the Accademia Gallery in Florence.

"Imagine him in jeans," Madeline says.

A perfect image.

Michaelangelo, a crazy genius, chose the slab of marble because it spoke to him. David's face was apparently carved in the image of Michaelangelo's lover. It is a large head, the hands too, out of proportion to some, and a reminder of the body parts connected with thought and action - important concepts during the Renaissance.

This uncircumcised Jewish shepherd, older than the Biblical figure, is depicted moments before he kills Goliath, the Philistine giant. Poised to take action, not with me, but against the enemy.

Here I am in Florence not so happy to share my love with its inhabitants, while they are happy to share him with me. I feel jealous. I am especially resentful of the woman who spent a year tenderly cleaning the man with cotton and water. Gently wiping away the pollution. A year alone with a man of my dreams.

One day I will spend more time with him. Now I have to leave. At least I know that he's not going places.