grayscale

So I decided that dignity is something I can live without. And, in a ridiculous play on words and as a -hopefully successful- marketing stunt, I started a series of videos to promote my new book, Sex/Life.

The same way there are things that, once they break, can never be put back together -my heart, for example-; there are also things that unexplicably break to make way to something more meaningful. An eggshell

"From big words to nothing." I should write a book called that. And the subtitle would be The story of my fucking life. “Date Girl” disappeared for almost two days. I thought she had ghosted

I parked my bike outside the bar. I was a couple of minutes late, and my stomach was acting up. Clearly I was nervous. It was the moment of truth, the reality check. “Is this another waste of time?” I

The next day after breaking up with L, I installed Tinder on my phone, created a profile and started swiping around. Went on my first date three days after that. And so it began. By now, almost ten months

I stand in the middle of my living room, eating an apple while my anxiety eats my insides. I take a deep breath and look around. My pants and socks lie on the exact same place I threw them two nights ago.

T stared at me with her beautiful blue eyes. “You are different when you have sex. You are more… rough,” she said. “Oh, shit… I’m sorry,” I said, and put the fucking on hold. “Are you okay?” “Yes, it’s

“So… what now?” The usual scenario: sat on my red sofabed after work, feeling lazy and uninspired. Drinking a protein shake, because I was supposed to go to the gym today. I stare at my laptop screen and

My much-needed 3 week holiday came to an end, and I enjoyed the last rays of sun on my skin. My bare naked back, pressed against the living room window; and my eyes, staring blankly into the tv screen.

Don’t you get the feeling, sometimes, that life is a series of cycles that one is meant to repeat? Places, moods, actions, people, fuckups. All this, an endless pattern of do and redo, make and break,

I hate Chile. The people, the culture, the abysmal socioeconomic differences, the sexism, the racism, the homophobia, the smog, the corruption, the filth, the consumerism, and plenty more. I fucking hate

I got to the corner of Moneda and Brasil and I almost cried. I could see the entrance of my old building from there. Moneda 2155, where I lived for almost 7 years. Slightly drunk and tired, still it hit

It was 1 in the morning. September 11th was finally over and Monday was going to rise. I walked back home, rushing in the empty streets of Providencia. It was cold. I was frustrated. I had just spent 4

I walked in the city center for hours, running some errands. I felt overwhelmed by the people, the noise, the traffic. Everything, basically. Though a sense of familiarity also kicked in. Nothing had changed.

I’m no dating expert, but I can’t complain. Even in my worst moment, lying in bed with a broken foot, I managed to have a good caring lover by my side. This is no coincidence, it’s a consequence. A consequence

Why do we lie? Whether it’s to avoid hurting someone or just to escape from complicated situations, lying has become just one of the things we do daily, as well as eating, sleeping and breathing. But has

13 hours on a plane can kill anyone’s will. But the excitement of coming back home was like coke to me. I was fully awake, fully functional. And annoyed. Missing my life back in DK. Missing what I left

We were locking our bikes nearby The Little Mermaid statue. It was pitch black, around 10pm. We could hear some tourists in the distance, but it felt like, under all those stars and the warm air of that

Marie told me, when I asked if she was mad at me for abandoning her for a while, that she didn’t waste time nor energy in being angry. “I prefer to forgive. It feels better,” she said. “I wish I was like