The problem with sleeping (around)

I fell asleep last night with a perfectly formed, fully evolved blog post leaping around my brain, like one of those horny little capuchin monkeys at the zoo (remember the time I went with Adam, Jamie, Trisha, Andrea and Jake to the Little Rock Zoo and we saw a baby gorilla, and a tiger growled at Adam and me, and then we watched two monkeys put on an Amsterdam-style sex show? Then we had Whole Hog ribs and went to the Travs game. Best day so far this year...) only to wake up with no concept of what it was. My fucking brain. Ken and I watched Mind Control last night, a show on Sci-Fi dealing with subliminal suggestion, hypnosis, brainwashing, etc. The creator and host, Derren Brown, was quite a notorious celebrity in England while I lived there, thanks mainly to a live Russian roulette special episode of his program on Channel 4. After seeing a few episodes of the American version of the show, we have decided this man could possibly be the most evil man on the planet. He can persuade almost anyone to do almost anything, using nothing more than psychology. It's really fascinating stuff, to consider our will, beliefs, ideals, motivations, can all be redirected, modified or simply erased by someone who possesses a better understanding of how and why the mind does what it does. How deeply embedded in our being is this stuff? Is it just programming? Simple software ticking over within our biological computers? I'm sure if Sartre were alive to see this program he'd weep tears of bitter joy into his absinthe.

Seeing as how I really have nothing of value to discuss, why not talk about dating and sex. Great job! Without going into too much detail, I haven't gotten any of either in quite some time. And now I'm starting to think about it more frequently. For a time, and not too long ago, I was actually beginning to feel as though I was losing interest in sex. Not totally, but definitely in a significantly reduced capacity. I suppose I measure this by the declining frequency of doing what all boys do, or any oopsies while sleeping if I did skip a day or two. While it's a fact that as men age into their 40s, they do lose some sex drive. By this point, men have procreated and the biological need for sex is no longer present. In addition to the cruelty of nature (or possibly mercy), there's definitely a self-confidence/image issue at play. I'm taking less of a Steve McQueen or Paul Newman path into middle-age, instead being forced down the far less glorious Hank Hill Route. Thinning hair on the head (which is obviously retreating to other locations on the body), paunchy middle, flattening ass. The obvious defense is exercise, which I have successfully avoided avoided for the past few months. A year ago I was running 20-24 miles per week, thanks mainly to my running partner's marital issues. We would run for hours, talking through his life. Do you want to get a divorce? Do you want to fuck your boss? Why did you do that? Etc. Once the issue was resolved however (everything worked out and they now have a kid), we stopped. He began working out in the mornings with his wife to reforge that sweet, sweet connubial bliss. I just got fat.

Now I am in a new city, one seemingly teeming with amazing single women. And the fire in my pantses has been rekindled. The ensuing conundrum revolves around my ongoing self-image issues (coupled with the fact I have no job and no place to live). I can't really date at this time, but this place is so small that I can't really just get it on with whomever (I also consider the strong possibility anyone I'd want to get it on with would also be someone I would want to date at a later, more suitable time) without damaging my stature as a nice guy and thus future dating possibilities. This is also ignoring the fact that in my present condition, I don't know if I could actually attract anyone worthwhile (ie without paying them) for said wiggle wiggle woo-ha. What's a geek to do? Is Internet dating the solution? Maybe? I could also consider older women. Cougars. That's what my mom called them. I think she has a lot of couger friends - overworked, overstressed elementary school teachers with frustrated libidos. I suppose that's an experience every man should have. Where do you go to pick up older women? JC Penney?
(that's awful... I should have never even mentioned that thought... apologies...)

Watching Star Trek now - keeps my mind of the na-na na-na. Or maybe just keeps it away... Women can smell Trek on a man, can't they? Can't you?

Engage.