European Travel > American Sex

Let me get this out in the open right away – in my 2 weeks in Europe (1 week in Barcelona, 1 Week in Paris) I did not have any sex.

There, I said it. In fact, the most action I got in those 2 weeks was a kiss from an Irish girl I met in a Barcelona bar.

Got it? If you think sex is the only measure of a man, and you can’t listen to a word I’m saying about my trip (lol incel, amirite?), then head on over to Netflix or something and watch Justice League.

However, in those 2 weeks that I was gone, I learned more about myself, my goals, motivations and attitude than I ever did in my hottest of hot streaks. Strange how that works, isn’t it. When a lot of guys begin to learn Game, they think their lives are perfect, just missing some women to share them with. Many are mistaken. I know I was.

American sex has hit the bottom of the barrel for me, coincidentally about 72 hours before I was scheduled to depart for Barcelona. After witnessing a shouting match between two gay friends over their recent breakup, I talked for about 45 minutes to an adorable Anna Kendrick lookalike. Went for the number — WOOPS, boyfriend bomb, sorry bro. By this time – Tuesday night around 1 am I believe, the only girls that remained at the bar were either surrounded by sausage or had the appearance of an average XoJane blogger. No thank you.

As I walked home, I was glancing inside bars, to see if there was a lone-wolf sex starved girl sitting at the bar, slamming down drinks to rationalize the sex she was about to have. I found one. She was an over 40 “Southern Belle”, that still looked very pretty, but as I soon found out, her head was scrambled.

She was divorced from a rich man because, for lack of a better term, YOLO. She laid out all of her problem. We’ve only known each other for 20 minutes at this point. I guess I was supposed to be the Taye Diggs to her Stella. And yes, I just referenced “How Stella Got Her Groove Back”, I have excellent taste in movies.

And then the fucking happened. And in no universe can that be confused for “love making”. Before I knew it, I was being asked to slap her, choke her, spit on her face, fuck her ass. My drunk ass decided to amuse myself and dirty talk her with manosphere terms. “You eat my alpha cum”, “another man wined and dined you but I get to fuck your dirty little asshole”. Yep, I said those things. Wasn’t the first time. I woke up the next morning feeling dirty. Ugh.

Yep. That was my American Sex. And that was one of the good nights.

But the flip side – is it ever grand.

  • I tasted bodega food that was the same quality as Whole Foods
  • I saw Sagrada Familia – a church so beautiful it moved me to tears.
  • I went for a morning run, got lost, and ended up in an Olympic park. Needless to say, it was the most epic run of all time
  • I drank good, cheap beer, ate good, cheap street food, and talked about life with my friends, discovering the sides of them I never knew existed, deepening our friendships.
  • I saw the museum of Salvador Dali – the man that took “quirky as fuck” to levels never before seen.
  • I saw beautiful paintings, large and small, from every corner of the world, in the Louvre
  • I saw paintings in person that I have only seen in books. And it makes a giant difference. Yes, I artfagged on vacation. A lot
  • I saw how much the world draws from America for inspiration – from the movies showing “Despicable Me 2”, to people wearing superman tshirts, to the Harley Davidson festival in Barcelona. I felt proud to be an American
  • I read every chance I got. I learned every chance I got

That is just a small sample of sights and activities I got to experience in 2 weeks. I was inspired, and writing these words right now is reigniting that fire all over again.

I am unstoppable when I am inspired. Look out world, here I come.

I know this is said a LOT in the manosphere, but it must be repeated.


Travel far and wide, travel to a place where the language and culture are not your own. Travel because no matter where you are and what you do, familiarity doesn’t just build contempt – it builds prisons. Plan your fucking vacation. It might just change your life

This entry was posted in Manspirations, sex, stories. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to European Travel > American Sex

  1. Pingback: Happiness sometimes costs money. Spend it | Kid Strangelove

  2. Pingback: European Travel is Better Than American Sex

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