During my first year in Spain there was a song called “Bomba” by King Africa that played incessantly in every nightclub and bar across the country. A dance craze had formed around the song, similar to that of “La Macarena“, and whenever King Africa sang the words “un movimiento sexy” all the women on the floor would move their hips back and forth feigning sexiness. This forced attempt at sex appeal was almost always painful to watch because, as you can guess, there is nothing more ridiculous, unnatural and unappealing than someone trying to be sexy.
I had almost forgotten about “Bomba” and its “movimiento sexy” until recently. I was at a bar in Madrid and a girl in her early mid 20s standing close to me was telling the gentleman next to her, in what I can only assume was an attempt to impress him, that in bed she “always has to be the one in control”. From that moment on, I spent the evening giving this woman imaginary answers to her contrived attempt at sex appeal — for example, how I wouldn’t be interested in someone who was closed minded, self-centered, inflexible, incapable of adapting or varying her repertoire, “my way or no way”, lacking in spontaneity, and an overall control freak. But I thought the best response would have been, “what a shame that we’re so incompatible. I too always have to be the one in control”.
Coincidentally and much to my surprise, a few days later I turned on the television and guess who I saw starring in a low-budget Spanish soap opera? None other than the girl who was trying too hard.