My apology

- Do you want to have sex with me? -I said.
- Really? - he asked, surprised.
- Yes.
- Just like that?
- Sure. Works every time -I replied.


I was telling an ex schoolmate my ultimate technique to get with a girl. Being as direct as it gets, which, shit you not, works like a charm. If you don't believe me, ask him. A few days after, he came back and told me that he had followed my advice and it did the trick for him. Since that day he calls me “Captain.”

Captain. Sounded good. It was a nickname I never thought I would get, especially not for my womanizer skills. Yeah, me, a ladies man. Unbelievable! Me, a guy who lost his fucking virginity at 21 and stayed with his first and only girl for over 8 years just because he firmly believed he sucked at getting laid and, basically, everything related to the opposite sex... or sex, period.

What changed? Well, I was miserable and the sex with my ex, if I got any, was extremely boring and frustrating. Breaking up was a good start, I guess. Coming back to the “meat market” also helped. Experiencing things I should have experienced during my 20's in only 4 months, before turning 30, was an excellent boost, too. But I wasn't quite there yet. I wouldn't think of that version of myself as the ultimate Casanova, nor I would expect to be called Captain for that. What changed then? More than what, it was a who. She changed me.

I loved her. And, along with her, I loved the man I became while being with her. Because even though, before she appeared in my life, I had already realized I was way more attractive and interesting than I used to believe, I was still ashamed of my performance under the sheets. She changed that. Oh, God, the sex! Un-fucking-believable. If there's something she left in me, besides a broken heart after dumping me, was the sex.

I had nothing to brag about before. Then, all of a sudden, I found myself in a spiral of sweat, warmth, nudity and pleasure, seasoned with some awkwardness and emptiness every now and then. I felt like I had a power, a gift. Thanks to this new found arousing knowledge and the improved sexual performance that came with it, I rebuilt myself as the character I always wanted to be, but never had the guts to. Yes, I had changed, but to be this new person I had to leave behind fundamental values. I cheated, I lied, I fucked up and around and, when I had the chance to stop, I kept doing it for one last time, because it wasn't enough yet.

With her, my beloved, out of the picture, I was devastated. But soon the devastation gave way to a fruitful sex drive. The more I got laid, the better I got at it. My self-confidence reached the skies and I was feeling like I was touching the stars with my dick. I got cocky and stupid. Met a very nice Danish girl and, despite I knew she was interested in me, I just kept her as my fuck buddy while I tried with some other girls. Breaking a foot didn't stop me. Internet became my allied to keep shagging other girls while I was with her. One of them, a British girl, was the more important. So important that almost made me forget the Norwegian who'd broken my heart. Almost.

The British girl was on her way back to me, after being traveling around. I knew things could get deeper than occasional sex, and I felt ready to give myself to this new relationship. I cheated on my previous girl before to be with her, and now this foul was going to be worth it. Yet I had a hunch, a distracting feeling that wouldn't allow me to fully focus on what I was starting to feel for her. To shake this thoughts off my head, I contacted my Norwegian ex. “What if there's still a chance?” I thought. Miraculously, there was. But there was also lots of resentment on my side; so much that, although I loved her, I let the British girl come to live with me anyway. It was a fun month, contaminated by mixed feelings of joy and self-loathing, and that ended with me telling the truth on the last days and breaking the Brit's heart.

Now that everything is over, I'm back with her. She, my first and only love. She, the one who showed me there's more to life than the depressing sexual and affective ways I'd suffered before with my ex. But I can't be with her at peace knowing what I did. I can't enjoy her as much as I'd like, not without offering her my apology.

I am very sorry for being a jackass to you and to your gender, in general.

Sex/Life 34

She's gone. While I write this, her plane takes L thousands of miles away from me. She left and the emptiness there is now in me can't be filled with the remains she left behind. Instagram pictures, Facebook posts, a stack of Philippine coins on my drawer and three books. Unmade bed, dirty dishes, a towel drying in my terrace. All signs that she was here, reminders of the three weeks we spent together. Memories of laugh, tears and sex.

L, my lover, my dream of a future.

Jeg elsker deg. Te amo. I love you.

Sex/Life 33

We fucked on the couch. We planed coming back to my place from the airport in complete silence, and once back at the flat, throw away all of our shit and clothes to have wild sex on the table. That was only one of the many things we planed during these two months of endless Skype conversations, unstoppable Facebook messages and occasional Snapchats. One of the many things that, 9 days in, we haven't done.

Expectations hit the brick wall of reality and our dreams of passion and romance got so disfigured after this crash that they needed urgent plastic surgery. Now they don't look as beautiful as before, yet I couldn't say they are ugly. They look normal now; as normal as it feels going to bed and wake up next to each other every morning. As normal as it is for me to cook and for her to wash the dishes, or just sitting in my terrace to have a laugh drinking cheap beer. And, you know what? I fucking love it! I've never felt more comfortable in my life, so understood, so accepted, so embraced... so loved.

Nope, we did not have wild sex on the table, but it was great anyway. We fucked on the couch.

Once again

I can clearly remember the song I heard the first time I got drunk. I was seventeen and, while I zigzagged to the bathroom of that beach bar, Space Oddity by David Bowie started playing. I can also recall that, the first time I kissed my long lasting ex, we were listening to Travis and their version of Britney Spears' Baby one more time. But when I think about who I believe to be the woman of my life, the song that pops in my head is one I fucking hate: Get Lucky, by Daft Punk. And I don't hate that song only because I literally heard it EVERYWHERE for several months. The reason because I hate it the most is because it reminded me of her, L, during that horrible period after she broke up with me.

I was a complete mess for over 6 months. L had taught me how to love and showed me this feeling is real, despite of what I'd learned before with my previous experiences. She became the sweetness that justified living 30 years of bitterness. So you can imagine it was really hard for me to let her go after she called the end of our relationship. How was I suppose to do that? My head understood her words, her rejection; but my heart was stuck on her past “I love you's.”

Had to go through many processes, from unconditional love to unleashed hate, to get to a point in which I could feel I finally moved on. And, right then, the impossible happened. L, having realized she never stopped loving me, came back into my life. It was great, yet absolutely shitty in its timing. Moving on hadn't only meant turning the page and jumping to the next chapter of my personal history. It also implied starting a new relationship and a life change; all things I wasn't willing to give up so easily.

Did what I had to do, or what I thought I had to. In the end, I just fucked up. Gave a try to the new relationship while I wouldn't stop talking to L. When the new girl realized there was something odd going on, I had to confess the whole deal. She left me with her heart broken, but she wasn't the only one hurt. L suffered the whole time, knowing that after I turned off Skype I would go and sleep with another person. And I can't even say I enjoyed myself either. The guilt for the damage I was causing to everyone involved in this strange situation wouldn't leave me alone.

After the new girl was gone, things didn't get much better between L and me. She was half way around the world and I was surrounded by temptation. Add a great deal of resentment on my part, justified mistrust on her side, and you get an awful mix. Plus, the distance wasn't helping. What's the point of having a disfunctional relationship if you can't even have epic sex to make it be worth it?

Nowadays I wonder if there's a happy ending for this story. I could only rely on wishful thinking to say “yes.” I made a big mistake, and L did her own share. Don't say it's gonna be easy to leave all that behind us and focus only on our common present and possible future together. There's a lot to fix yet. Although I cannot say I'm pessimistic about it, because she already took the first leap of faith to make up for her errors. Right now, as I write these words, she's on a plane from London to Santiago de Chile. I have no idea how tomorrow's reunion is gonna be and I won't hide that I'm very nervous about it. However, this feels right. Messed up and all, I think our love story deserves we give it a try, at least once again.

Real love quote 04

I never wanted to marry or have kids, not until you came along in my life. Now that I want the whole package, I wonder: did you change me or is it just that I was waiting for you the whole time?

Nunca quise casarme ni tener hijos, no hasta que apareciste en mi vida. Ahora que quiero todo el paquete, me pregunto: ¿me cambiaste o es sólo que estaba esperando por ti todo este tiempo?

Sex/Life 32

We spent over half of our relationship in bed, naked, both physically and emotionally. It was winter in Santiago. Too cold and gray outside to go out, too warm and cosy under the sheets to ever leave them. But she left. I didn't wash those sheets for more than a month after that, until she broke up with me. I listened to Keane's Hamburg Song and cried every time. “I wanna be the place you call home” they sang. I was home, but it never felt like it was my home anymore. She was. Could feel it in each embrace, stare, kiss, smile, shag...

...I'll be home soon.

Real love quote 03

Sometimes when I see you smile I feel I was made to love you from the womb to the tomb.

A veces cuando te veo sonreír siento que fui hecho para amarte de la vulva a la tumba.