“I want to go to Miami,” my friend declared as he took a sip from his Turkish tea and gazed out in the distance.
We were enjoying some fine Turkish tea at an outdoor cafe in Sultanahmed, Istanbul’s old town.
I was with Tom, my Belgian ex-roommate from my old flat in Rio de Janeiro. Even though we don’t live in the same flat anymore, we still keep in touch (mostly because I have a free place to crash in Barcelona. Just kidding.)
“Why Miami?” I asked, curious to hear his reasoning.
“Well, it’s a nice city with great weather, nice beaches, and lots of Latinas. I want to have fun with a cute Latina.”
I took a sip from my Turkish tea, and after putting the cup on the table, slowly looked at a pack of tourists admiring a nearby mosque. He wants to go to Miami, I thought to myself. I definitely knew what he meant.
When I mention to you the word Miami, what’s the first thing that comes to mind? My brain immediately starts to flood with images of a tropical paradise, beautiful white sand beaches, and stunning Latinas wearing nothing but tiny bikinis. It’s certainly not the only city in the world that possesses these qualities. But where it fails in uniqueness, it more than makes up in recognition.
They say the best part about Miami is that it’s so close to the United States, a compliment to its un-Americanized feel thanks to its predominantly Latin American population.
While I was living in US, Miami was always a city that I wanted to visit. And after multiple visits, it became a city where I wanted to live. In fact, Miami soon became my last attempt of building a life in the US; there was simply no other city that offered such a great combination of a lifestyle without crossing the border.
To me, Miami embodied everything that I loved about Latin America, but with the added benefits of US security and convenience (not to mention no need for long term immigration visas). However, it was only after I finally lived there early last year that I realized how misguided my thinking was.
To Tom, Miami symbolizes sun, fun, and easy Latin women. To me, Miami symbolizes yet another overhyped American destination (like Las Vegas) replete with packs of tourists, expensive drinks, bad male/female club ratios, and women who don’t blink an eye for a passerby foreigner, even one who’s been to Latin America and might speak some Spanish.
While we differ on our views on a popular travel destination, there’s a deeper difference between us: Tom wants to enjoy chocolate; I want to stockpile gold.
Do I have a “Miami” that I dream about visiting? First it was Mexico, then it was Argentina, and then Brazil. Europe came next with Baltics, Scandinavia and Eastern Europe. My latest “Miami” was Balkans, where I spent over two months split between two countries (Bulgaria and Serbia).
Balkans is nice, but I have absolutely no desire to visit the remaining countries: Montenegro, Albania, Macedonia or Greece for absolutely no concrete reason other than to check off another country on my travel list.
So, if the desire to keep moving is gone, what’s next?
After pondering over the question for a long time, I slowly came to an important realization.
Visiting a place for no reason other than the promise of “sun, tanned girls, and easy sex” is like eating chocolate. It makes you feel good — even fantastic — for that split second where the sweet sugar comes in contact with the taste buds. After that brief moment of ecstasy, the chocolate dissolves into sugar and gets absorbed into the blood stream. The sweet taste is now gone and that chocolate has now turned it into empty calories without any nutritional value whatsoever.
Chasing and fucking women is also like eating chocolate. Depending on the hotness of the woman, you can have a hard erection or a soft one. You insert your penis into a lubricated hole and move it back and forth. The climax comes when you shoot your load. Then it’s all downhill. Right after ejaculation you’ll need several minutes to yourself, and if the girl isn’t very pretty, your first urge would be to kick her out of the house and spend the night alone.
The sober awaking comes when you land in a new country and realize it’s nothing like you imagined it to be. It also comes after you finally discover that the shape and depth of that pussy of that tall blonde you worked so hard to seduce is exactly the same as the 100 women who came before her.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with traveling to far away places and structuring your life in the relentless pursuit of pussy, notches, flags, and checkmarks.
But the more I travel, and the more I pursue pussy for nothing more than to satisfy my insatiable reptilian brain, the more my marginal desire for additional traveling or gaming foreign chicks gets closer and closer to zero.
Is someone a better man because he has 100 flags? Is someone a better man because he got his dick inside 100 different holes from 100 different nationalities? Is someone a better man because he jerked off inside 100 lubricated holes of different color, shape, smell or size? I’ll let you decide that for yourself.
To me, that’s like eating 100 different types of chocolate. It’s just 100 pieces of sugar. Have one; have them all. I’m confident that at this point in my life an additional notch or flag won’t change anything in my life, my worldview, or my state of being; it won’t give me more wisdom, more intelligence, or — more importantly — will make me a better man. All pussy is really the same.
I must confess that I initially mislead you. Pursuing things that make you happy isn’t exactly like eating chocolate. Chasing happiness won’t give you diabetes or cavities, and by pushing yourself beyond your comfort zone — like I’ve done for years — you’ll without a doubt become a new man. A man full of confidence, desire and the means to get what he wants. And that is much, much better than the alternative: marrying the first woman who responds to your message on match.com, and slaving for the rest of your life at some soulless 9-5 job.
But comparing this lifestyle with eating chocolate full of empty calories isn’t a farfetched analogy. To me, consuming chocolate represents an uncontrollable, subconscious desire to do something for pleasure. That desire can be good, but that desire can also be bad. Eating chocolate adds absolutely no value — nutritional or otherwise — to your health, well-being, or otherwise. But we still do it because it’s part of the human instinct to desire sweet stuff. That will never change.
The key is to realize when something is stimulating a basic human desire but adds nothing of value. Traveling aimlessly coupled with a relentless pursuit of pussy are becoming such empty desires for me.
A long term diet of chocolate just isn’t sustainable. There comes a point when you begin to question if that additional country, city, pussy, notch, and flag is worth it. And as soon as you reach that point, there’s nothing that could be done. You’ve reached the point of no return. I’ve reached the point of no return.
So what’s left? Just like the opposite of emotion is logic, and the opposite of consumption is production, the opposite of eating chocolate is stockpiling gold.
Stockpiling gold is building wealth. It’s a process where a man takes all his knowledge, wisdom and experience and architects, engineers, and builds something of value.
Do all men realize this at the same stage in their life? Absolutely not. A close friend of mine, who is the same age as me, has been stockpiling gold since he was 18. He’s now married with a beautiful wife, two kids, a successful business, and as you can guess lots and lots of gold. He has chocolate from time to time, but only as a consequence of stockpiling even more gold (i.e., he travels and goes out in exotic destinations only because of a specific business deal).
In Medellin, I met a 55-year-old American backpacker who’s still staying in dorms and has no plans of slowing down. He loves his chocolate, but has very little gold.
A 28-year-old friend whom I met in Rio de Janeiro, told me his next trip will be “with 4 suitcases to take what’s mine.” At the time I didn’t fully understand what he meant, but now it’s crystal clear.
The turning point is when a man realizes that getting an extra quantity of whatever he’s chasing makes him progressively less and less happy and fulfilled. He also realizes that instead of controlling his actions, his actions are controlling him; he has become a slave, a slave to pussy, a slave to numbers (flags, notches, countries visited, etc), a slave to prove something to himself and as well as to others. He has become a slave to himself.
Each man must make the transition on his own terms. Some men do it early in their lives, others do it later, while still others never make the leap. Where’s the answer? As the astute commentator Quintus Curtius put it:
Travel, and read, and talk, and read some more. And this is the way. The only way. The revelation will come.
Indeed, the revelation is slowly revealing itself.
Did I waste all these years of my life eating chocolate when others were duly stockpiling gold? Few things sound more ludicrous. Just because someone is not eating chocolate doesn’t mean that he’s automatically stockpiling gold.
For some people, like myself, the journey was a requirement. For other people, like my successful friend, the journey was probably optional. Many others haven’t evolved at all — and probably never will — they are still slaving away at their 9-5 jobs and messaging girls on match.com in their spare time. Evolution won’t be too kind to these individuals.
How much chocolate do I still want to consume? Not much. At this point, there are very few countries I would visit without a concrete reason. I will visit and live in Russia and Ukraine because for better or worse it’s a place where I don’t need to know another language, game, or anything/anyone to live, meet, and build relationships with beautiful women who literally grow on trees.
It’s the only place in the world where I can easily befriend and seduce women with nothing but the clothes on my back, all while uttering nothing but the sounds coming from my voice box in my mother’s tongue.
I will take vacations in Spain because it’s sunny, has great food, and I know the language and the country.
I’ll probably never come back to places like Bulgaria, Romania or Serbia simply because the reason I went there in the first place was because I craved chocolate, a desire I no longer have.
The rest of the time I’ll be locked up somewhere where the sun doesn’t shine, stockpiling gold and transforming my hard-earned capital into something of value. All while staying away as far as possible from consumption of chocolate.
“See, Tom, Miami is your chocolate,” I told Tom.
Tom turned to me, carefully listening to my wisdom.
“You want to go there for no concrete reason; in fact, the reasons are more emotional than logical: you want to go there to find yourself.”
“But I’ve been to Miami several times and see it quite differently. Regardless, Miami has all that you dream of: tropical weather, gorgeous beaches, and tanned Latinas who speak beautifully accented Spanish. While it’s not for me, I don’t want to discourage you from going. I want you to go and experience things for yourself. I want you to draw your conclusions. Eat as much chocolate as you want.”
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