In Gio's version of the dumpery, she was like, "Truth is, I would rather be all alone than go with you," and then spit on his shoes. Which frankly makes more sense, of the two versions. She protests that it's a lie, and that she certainly didn't spit, and he says sometimes when she talks fast, she spits. She gets all dog with a bone, because you simply do not call Betty a bad person without suffering the overbearing consequences of her trying to show you the error of your ways, and follows him all over the world like that Family Circus dotted line until he spills how horrible Rome really was.
Two weeks in the most romantic place on earth, and he was alone and broken-hearted, and all the reservations were under her name because the arrangements were a gift from Daniel, so all the time it was "Welcome Signor Suarez" and "Can I get you anything Signor Suarez," it was like Betty Suarez Land up in that bitch. Yeah, that sounds awful actually. I always thought it would be horrible to break up with somebody famous because instead of it being like a telephone you bought together or a movie you both liked, it's all magazines and all commercials and all billboards maybe forever. And I understand Rome is like that, but with Betty Suarez.
She says it can't have been all bad, and asks if he found "his flavor" like his Mario Batali did, and he says that he did, and it was this special kind of awesome Scamorza in Puglia that comes from a cow called Luisa who lived quite the life of hand-feeding, pampering, massages, etc. All the things Gio would have done for Ugly Betty, but no: she would not produce the cheese of love. She preferred to keep her love-cheese to herself. And it gets worse, because even after discovering that heaven -- not to mention Bridgeport pizza toppings -- can come from a cow, and all the changes to his lifestyle that discovering one's flavor can bring about, the whole thing was confiscated at JFK and he went back to a Scamorza-free existence. It was all the more cheese hellish for having tasted cheese heaven, and apparently this moment -- watching the customs agents chow down on this freaking amazing cheese -- brought him to an epiphany. In case Amanda's listening in, he helpfully translates: "A moment of total clarity." Drink! It's not Freedom, but it was still unnecessary!
Now, if you've been watching the show you knew this long before Gio did, but don't let your utter lack of surprise take away from the beauty of this discovery on the cheese- and meat-laden journey of Gio's life: "I hate you. You're not a nice person."