When I was young I wanted more than anything to have an uneventful life. In August 2000, I left Madrid to make to make a career in queerness.
Four years ago (in June 2001), I had just finished my studies in the US, still did not speak a word of English, Lizard Lounge was at Saint and my jeans were not Italian ! I was a poor unemployed immigrant tasting the bitter taste of the American freedom (a mix of poverty, social class change, guilt, anxiety, lack of health insurance and sexual debauchery) and paying rent with the last installment of my tuition I had never paid. I was getting fat and my boyfriend told me “you really need to hit the gym”.
In June 2002, I was some kind of an underpaid corporate dishwasher in post 9/11 DC, I was sharing 
a tiny one bedroom in a dysfunctional relationship, my visa was ending and I was still closeted to my so-called family. We were so poor that the only thing we could afford was fake-n-bake and a Washington Sports membership. I was slim, constantly red and had to rent computers at Cyberstop. I did not know yet that my poverty would fuel my conversation for decades.
About two years ago (in June 2003) I had just failed an important job interview, my current contract was ending, I was sharing a one bedroom with a cokehead and I had lost my debit card. I would go to meetings on “abolishing nuclear weapons” jut to make friends. I would also punctuate my e-mails with comments such as: “My life is a nightmare”, “lately I am not in the best of moods” and “Today is definitely a day I should not have waken up !” and cope with the situation by drowning my sorrow in alcohol.
In June 2004, my job situation seemed difficult, I was living at 1783 and I was so psychologically disturbed that I would write: “I am pretty done with everything that used to be gay in my life” and spend my days asking terrible questions to people such as: What day of the week are we ? what am I doing here ? what did I tell to who yesterday night ?. I even stopped using fake spray.
In September 2005, I have a quasi-jewish boyfriend, a mexican roommate, a semi-prestigious job, a cleaning lady and I am finally independent from my family. Early bourgeois success is the right time to be nostalgic of your bohemian years !
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