I’m sitting in a tapas bar in Barcelona as the cool breeze wafts in from the sea. I have piled-up plates of patatas bravas and tortilla on the small upturned barrel in front of me that is used as a table. The waiters have not yet cleared away two empty glasses of Estrella lager. I look down at my arms. Freckles dot my limbs in close order right up to my t-shirt sleeve line. I have as close to a t-shirt tan as a pasty Englishman can muster. Reminiscing I realise I haven’t been this freckled since I was a young boy. Not since then have I spent such long summers outdoors. The intervening time has always seen me couped up in a schoolroom, lecture theatre, or office during the peak daytime hours of summer.
I reflect on how my life has changed.
Last year I quit my job and freed myself from the office grind. It was common for me to work 60-hour weeks, suited and booted. I had a team to look after and a boss to answer to. Deadlines stressed me and there were nights where I’d struggle to sleep as I pondered work issues, unable to let go. Feeling responsible. Feeling guilty for calling in sick unless genuinely bed-ridden lest I let down my co-workers.
I was out with a couple of my old friends last weekend for a post-work drink (their work, not mine). Great guys, great friends but thoroughly plugged into the matrix. I brought my Thai girl with me – an ex girlfriend but now simply a friend, I’m like her big brother now – and we started drinking. Then she went home and my girlfriend joined us. We got smashed. The next day my girl commented that the three guys had been watching us intently, trying to figure out how we were having so much fun, how I was able to open so many other girls for good interactions, and how this young busty chick was just hanging off me all night. I realised that what is normal to me is extraordinary to my friends. Extraordinary to me less than two years ago.
Now I’m sitting in Barcelona with two 21 year old Lithuanian girls who adore me. I’d banged one for an hour last night while her friend pretended to sleep next to us. Yesterday morning while waiting at the gate to board, two different tall hot 20 year old girls texted me to say they’d finished masturbating while thinking of me. A few nights previously I’d had a gin-soaked foursome with a wing and a couple of lovely young girls. The large-breasted Canadian stripper I banged a while ago has started text-stalking me. The beautiful young Italian who added me to facebook by accident (we’d never met) has been telling me how she once had a threesome and fancies another, and by the way can she come around my house to challenge me at video games? I turned down a late-night booty call from a tall teenage black girl because my girlfriend is still in the country.
I like Barcelona. We’ve just been swimming in the sea. I say to the girls I might come and live here for a month next time London gets cold. I’m joking. But I ruminate on the idea and I realise nothing is stopping me. I am so close to financial and geographical independence. So much so that I’m working on my exit to the “community”. No more bootcamps, no more teaching, no more forums and blogs. Just sell my books (two more in the works) and update the blog from any beach with WiFi.
I honestly never dreamed I’d be in this position. At the drop of a hat I can book a flight to any country I please and just live there. Our rat pack means there’s always a couple of guys up for adventure. We have the money and freedom. We have contacts and girls in every port. Just show up, daygame a few hours, hit a bar to meet some cool guys and that’s it. A new base set up within 24 hours.
I love it.
UPDATE: Some dude just linked this in a list of other related posts. They are all great. Check them out here