I was wondering when my brain would start to get a little bit philosophical - and the answer was yesterday. Perhaps it’s because the biking was a bit easier - I did 85+ miles, but most of it was fairly flat (although the award for most annoying hill goes to Grizzly Gulch road in Ferndale - unnecessary, folks). When I started this trip and this blog, I had a couple of decisions to make. I could have made the blog just a “travelogue”, a sort of recap of what I was up to, sanitized for the masses, so to speak. I decided that I really didn’t want to do that. Maybe it’s the fact that this trip is about searching, maybe it’s my age - but I care a lot less about what people think of me than I used to.
So, today is going to be a little bit out there. A lot of interesting and random stuff happened to me yesterday, and I’d like to tell you about a lot of it, but I just can’t make my brain go in that direction right now. I will tell one story, to sate those who want a good yarn. I was pulling through Eureka, using the ACA map, which took a really odd and random route through a quiet Eureka neighborhood. At one point I biked past a house that was street number 404. The 404 was done a little oddly, and it really caught my eye, because it looked a bit like a “Page not found” error message from a web browser. I thought the juxtaposition of those thing was hilarious - here I am in this country hick neighborhood with this crazy tech symbol right in front of me. I think part of me was like “lol Eureka lol the sticks lol these people don’t even know what a web browser is lol”. So I pulled over to take a picture. But as I was pulling out my phone, a Jetta pulled up in front of the house, and a guy - late 20 something, skinny, dressed in mostly black - who would have looked at home in any number of SF tech startups or coffee shops, got out and went into the house. He gave me a bit of a funny look. I…put my phone, sheepishly, back in the holder and biked away.
Anyway. WARNING: the rest of this blog entry is going to get really personal and maybe a little bit weird. It won’t really have anything to do with my trip, no more details about Arcata (which is a nice little place) or whether I’m safe (I am) or how progress is coming (OK, if a bit behind schedule). Today is going to get a bit philosophical, a bit TMI, and reading it may change how you look at me. If you are, say, my parents, and you don’t want to read things which, well, you don’t want to read, now would be a good time to stop reading.
Really, seriously. If you’re just here for the funny stories, you might stop reading. I saw this really great video the other day about social media and it made me think. It was basically about how shallow social media is, and how we sanitize our own lives to present them to everyone, because we have no commitment to each other. And it’s true - in general, as soon as you read something that smacks of being *real* - maybe a bit intense, you run the other way. So this might get a bit intense.
Still here?
OK - Sex.
There - did I get your attention? Let me back up a few steps. A big part of this trip, no question about it, is the fact that I’m getting older. I know, I know, I’m only 37, I have plenty of life left to live, etc., etc. All of which is true. But the point is that it’s time - past time - for me to figure out what *I* want to do with my life. Not my parents, my guidance counselor, my ex-wife, my friends. Me. The (relative) ease with which I planned and put together this trip has really made me start to think - in a good way - about how I really can do whatever I want in life!
And what I want is: Sex. I want to have sex. With women. (Me being from San Francisco, I suppose that needs clarifying).
I have had sex - depending on how you count - about 2-3 times in the last 2 years, since my last really serious relationship. And that is…sad. Let that soak in for a second. That would be sad for a “normal” person with an average sex drive. I have a high sex drive. I could easily enjoy having sex 2-3 times *per day*.
Now, before everybody gets all excited, I am not talking about “sex” with a lower case “s”. I’m talking about Sex, Sensuality, Physicality. Certainly actual intercourse is a big part of that - what Alex from Clockwork Orange might call “the old in and out”. But I mean the whole thing - massage, foreplay, tenderness, kissing in public, tight hugs, loose hugs, holding hands, late night phone calls, smoky glances, and yes, out and out sex - inventive, thoughtful, compassionate sex. I am not interested in just having sex for its own sake, devoid of humanity. No hookers. And yes, I would love to have a committed relationship. I could be very happy having sex with one woman, maybe even the rest of my life. But it would have to be good sex, really good sex. And right now, I’m having no sex at all.
I’ve thought a lot about why that is (obviously), and what I’ve realized is that - like many primal, fundamental things in life - sex is complicated, and the tendrils of sex reach into every aspect of my life. I used to think it was a simple problem - perhaps I need to lose some weight and get in better shape (I probably do, a little bit), maybe I need to get better at online dating, or stop online dating, or pick up hobbies that women enjoy, or get one of those hairline surgeries, or smile more, etc., etc. But what I think I’m finally realizing is that it’s all of those things at the same time, and much more. I don’t have sex because I do not meet women who I want to seduce and then successfully seduce them, and the reasons for that are myriad and many.
Yesterday, I had an interesting encounter. I was biking up through the coast, on my way north from Garberville, headed to Eureka. I stopped at a little market, and outside was a couple, maybe mid twenties. I asked them to watch my bike while I got a coke, and when I came out I sat on a log and started chatting with them. Now, this in and of itself is a remarkable thing. I have a really hard time just striking up a conversation with strangers. I do it, I push myself into it, but it’s hard for me. I always assume people won’t like me. I’m not sure why that is. I’ve thought maybe I should smile more, maybe it’s that I’m a guy, maybe it’s that I have a chip on my shoulder. Maybe it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. But, whatever, I did it, and they turned out to be nice people. While I was chatting they said they were from Eureka - so I thought “score! maybe they can help me”. I told them I was looking for somewhere to stay that night in Eureka. Sure enough, the guy, Peter, pulled out his phone, and called his neighbor, who he said “was a cool guy with chicks around all the time”. Peter, by the way, was really nice, tatted up, seriously built, definitely some kind of surfer. I heard his end of the conversation, and his buddy said he was with a client, but could probably help. I thanked Peter profusely, gave him my phone number, asked him to text or call me, shook his hand, told him I needed to get going if i was going to make it to Eureka by dark, and pulled out.
I never heard from Peter.
Now, this kind of thing happens to me all the time, and usually what happens - in my head, or even out loud - is that I get really depressed and more than a bit angry about it. I usually throw a pity party; why don’t people like me? Why does this always happen to me? Why aren’t people honest and straightforward anymore? Etc., etc. But this time - probably because of the mental space of being on the bike - I took a deep breath and thought about my role in the whole conversation. And, suddenly, like a light bulb, I saw a million things I could have done differently. I could have asked Peter more questions about himself, or his girlfriend. I don’t even remember her name, and I never found out what he did for a living. My handshake was limp - partly because I was wearing my bike gloves, and partly because he had a cut on his finger that I was afraid of. I asked him about the cut, and he said he got it installing sprinklers, but I never followed up with another question. And, looking back on it, I think he was expecting me to wait for his buddy to finish with the client, so he could call him back. He may have assumed that because I took off so fast, I wasn’t interested anymore. I was just being logical - he had my contact info, I needed to get going, so there we go. I approached the encounter like a math or logic problem. But people aren’t logic problems. For example, he had my phone number, but I didn’t have his. I should have gotten it. Hell, I have business cards with me - why didn’t I just give him one?
So I guess what I”m trying to say is that the reason I don’t have sex is because I don’t know how to work with people. In some alternate universe, a more savvy Adam is hanging out with Peter’s neighbor, and quite possibly getting laid. Or at least would have that option, if he wanted it.
I’m not sure exactly what to do about this. The problem isn’t that there’s no information out there about this - the problem is that there’s too much. There’s a whole section of the bookstore about this exact topic. I have one - “How to Get Your Mojo Back”. It’s terrible. It makes no sense. And there are meet ups, and men’s groups, etc., etc. But the problem is - and I’ve tried them - those groups are generally for people who really suck at this. I don’t *really* suck at this. I know how to hold a conversation. I know how to make eye contact. I’m not autistic, I don’t have PTSD. I have friends, I have had sex with women, even very very attractive women. I studied leadership training in my MBA. I would give myself a B- (maybe C+). I need a tutor who really knows how to up my game. Not just the sex part, but just across the board - making friends, with both men and women. And I think that the root of the problem - the core of the issue - is that I need to change my mental outlook on people. Right now, I have a flowchart in my head: Are you a woman? Are you roughly my age? Are you (reasonably) hot? Are you single? Then I am interested in talking to you. Otherwise, bugger off. I find people boring - and they can tell. I don’t mean to, I’m not a bad or mean or evil person, my mind just goes really fast, and I’m often - even in San Francisco - mentally ahead of people. That sounds like a good thing, but believe me, it’s a curse. Most people are fairly dull, most of the time. And that definitely includes me! I’m sick of myself and my own stories, too.
Somehow, though, I have to really re-discover the joy of *people*. The fact that they are worth getting to know, worth talking to - even the not-so-hot and not-so-single ones. I have to really have love - interest, compassion, care - for them and their stories and their issues. And that can’t be only for the hot ones. That has to be for everyone. Not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because it’s the only way I’m going to get laid. And then, as a second thing, I have to really go for it - have the guts and self-belief to believe that I am worth it - that sex with me will be fun, and it’s something every woman would want, and does want. Even the taken ones (even if they don’t act on it). I have to *be interesting and interested*. *Presume success*.
Merely realizing this is a step in the right direction, but I have to keep it up on this trip. More later as I start to figure it out.