“I will never have a relationship again.” That’s what I constantly repeated to myself every time I was feeling fed up with my ex during the almost 9 years I spent with her. I broke up and acted accordingly. As soon as I improved my game, it was on. I made out and fucked around the more I could, like if the world was coming to an end.

Everything was going smoothly. I rediscovered myself as a charming, smart and attractive young man. Never knew I was that until then, and started making good use of this new found sex appeal. Can’t say I had an astonishing success, but it was good enough to shake off the remains of my long relationship and to finally leave it behind for good. I was a changed man. I was the Eduardo I wanted to be.

A few months after my break up, I was in Brazil. I arrived to Sao Paulo looking only for one thing: sex. I had already been talking with this Brazilian girl who lived there, so the moment I was in the city, I arranged a date. I mean, it wasn’t a date; it was more like she was going to show me around. But, well, I was on fire and we ended up making out in a bar in Rua Augusta. The problem was that she wasn’t as open minded or liberal as me (and the rest of the world) think of Brazilians, and popping the sex subject freaked her out. After that encounter we never met again.

During the rest of my stay in Brazil and for some days after I came back, there was this strange feeling harassing me. I kept thinking about this girl; not for the chance of fucking her that I missed, but for something else. We clicked. We had a connection, that one when the conversation flows, as well as the laugher, and you just vibrate in the same level, to the point when you start finishing the other person sentences. Yeah, she was special. I’ve found her, but I was too stupid to tell until there was no way to fix it.

I moved on pretty quickly. Didn’t gave much attention to what happened back in Sao Paulo and kept the wild life in a more relaxed fashion. I was broke after so much traveling and partying. Had some more luck here and there but, suddenly, it all faded away. No sex for 4 months… until she happened.

I’ve gone over the vikinga issue for too long, so I’ll just jump that part. What’s important of that story is that I found out that I did want a relationship after all. The Brazilian girl was the first clue, a hint that I totally ignored for a while. Then it was very obvious when I found myself in love with this beautiful Norwegian, hoping she’d be with me forever. But she wasn’t and there was nothing left. Or was it?

A month passed since she broke up with me from the distance and I came back to my old ways. Needed desperately to feel something different than sorrow. With all the sexual knowledge I inherited from the cold Scandinavia, fucking around became so easy. I gained so much expertise and self confidence during that relationship that it was a breeze for me to get started in the business again. But my sex ride involved messing up with people feelings. I fucked up more than I can forgive myself.

There’s not much damage I can do now, sitting on my ass all day at home for the next 6 weeks, after I broke my left foot in the desert. Life, destiny, God, or all of them combined as karma, gave me the chance to rethink my life. I’ve hurt people after I got hurt, hurting myself in the process. That has to stop. I’ve fucked up and around, and now I’m fucked myself. Thought I wanted to be a womanizer and behaved like one, only to realize that all I wanted was what I first said I will never do again: to love.