My break up with America
I am an American, born and raised in the bumshit country end of Virginia, thankfully I was close enough to Washington D.C. to keep my teeth. I decided to leave after a year of total capitalism post graduation from Radford University. The opportunity to move to Spain and have insurance was presented to me and before I knew how to say, “¿Hola, que tal?” I found myself standing in Madrid Airport. Now, everything wasn’t that easy, right before I left I had the most emotionally intense relationship of my entire life. The first day we met they asked, “thats that suitcase over there for”, and I said “I hate this fucking place, so I’m leaving” aka the opener to every dramatic romantic teen movie.
I cannot stand structure and routine, while this Little Bird thrives on it and all the milestones America sets out for you to make you feel like you’re more than another monkey in this show. After many tears, fights, and several dramatic attempts on my part to whisk them away with me to Spain I was left for a new place alone, as planned. Usually this kind of thing is how I thrive, but having to look after two children; I Au paired until I could get my life together, and lemme tell you what, children are hell especially when they are asking for help in MATH but the country they live in taught them differently so you and the kid are having a mental breakdown over long division. Yet, I had the best summer of my life with this family, they know all about my work and love my sex stories and shit so without them I do not think I would appreciate Spain as much as I do.
Spain, as a country has broken me, and what I mean by “broken” is when you have a horse you have to “break it”, teach it patience so you basically leave it between two posts all day until it learns. Spain taught me patience; this is a country vastly different from America in the sense Spain accepts being “mediocre”, which is not a bad thing. These are some of the happiest people but it’s typical to have to call your phone company monthly because they are over charging you or be hung up on when you make a phone call because the people on the other end get paid by the call number so if they cannot help you they will drop the call. I’ve spoken to people with this job, I am not exaggerating. As a result of a more annoying day to day people overall have long holidays, a culture that thrives around mental happiness, and are just the nicest people I have ever met.
This opportunity has opened my eyes to so much that I thought I was not victim too. For example, writing this blog, as you may have seen in my about me I have always been in this industry whether I was realizing it or not. Given the opportunity to travel and speak with new cultures has really boosted my confidence, and I’m a pretty confident gal. Which leads to to my next thing, Eroticon, what really gave me the push to finally make a blog.
The American Sex Education/Pleasure Community is a tough bitch, I have attended conferences, had internships, and physically had conversations with these people and I still would say I have no peers, just Kayla at the Center for Sexual Pleasure and Health but that was not until she set out on a project to really unite all the people who have been involved at the CSPH. The typical nature of these conferences, from the perspective of an outsider is mesmerizing. Yeah, you meet one or two people, but it’s like the Titanic Effect, and by that I mean you both are clinging to the same piece of wood until you get through this thing. Then like a specter you disappear until the next conference, maybe. You talk to the big names for 15 minutes and unless you yourself are a big name nothing comes of it, and you leave with a swagg bag and think this is how it goes. Eroticon was NOTHING like that, and if you want to know how life changing it was check it out.