Human Evolutionary Selection

So I was at work listening to my podcasts, sciencey and skeptical ones, and I stopped when I heard one that sounded like rape.  The male insect has this odd antennae that it uses to grapple females and when grappled it locks e female in place so he can mate her.  All the time the female is struggling to get away.  You see female insects that mate often are at increased risk of death through predation; twice the risk.   When scientist removed the genes that made the rape antennae, the number of successful matings dropped from one in eight to zero.  This insect had evolved to be raped.

I had taken it as a given that I, all humans, had a rapist father somewhere in my line.  I had assumed, given that my family was from the north east shore of England, that a Viking raider was somewhere in my past and my genes reflected these facts.  The story about the insect crystallized a new thought in my head and now that I have thought it through I can prove that our rape culture is part of our history for thousands of years.  Proof.  It is not something to be proud of.

You can see the results of generations, thousands of generations of raping in the world today; you always could, it is just no one had connected the dots for you to see.

Here goes.  

When you look out in the world you see people and there are certain attributes that would make people more likely to survive in the wilderness.  And when you look out in the world they are not there, they are unbalanced.  There are many old reasons why things exist the way they exist, but they are also reasons that are easily dismissed.  

I am a man.  I am 6'3" and inch taller when stand tall.  I am barrel chested and if I lost the gut, I would make most bouncers sweat.  I have never been to a gym regularly and have never tried to make muscle, but I have it in spades, I can lift three hundred pounds easily.  This makes me a real power house and by the law of the jungle, I should be able to do anything I want.  But, it should not be that way.  Evolutionarily, I do not make sense, the only thing that I am good for in this body is beating off other males and raping any woman I can find.

Evolutionarily, smaller is more efficient, if anything women should be bigger than men so they can survive childbirth more easily, but we see the opposite.  On average women are smaller and frailer than men.  In our past, collectively, big men could mate with more women than small men.  Big men could force more smaller women than big women, so small sized women were selected over stronger women.  

Men need to be stronger to kill and get meat.  This is untrue.  Hunter gather societies gathered more than they hunted and in any case human hunters were successful not because they were bigger than their prey, but because they could outlast them and because they worked cooperatively.  A single big man could never kill a mastodon, and while a single man might be able to kill a deer, keeping the lion from taking it, would never happen.  Only large numbers could take down large prey and only large numbers could secure prey. Size does not matter.

Large men make better soldiers and can protect more people.  Larger size is more intimidating, but larger people eat more, larger people need more to live.  I don't claim to know what the ratio of size to resources, but I know that more small people are better than fewer larger people. For any task.  On big person can lift more, but two smaller people can lift more than the one person.

Any way you look at it, it comes down to large sized males are less fit evolutionarily than smaller men, unless there was another selective pressure, historically, rape.

Rape?

I am a little wired right now.  I was reading my friend's blog and she wrote about a very important problem in today's world, that men think it is permissible to rape a drunk woman.  This made me angry and sad and made me upset and I asked her a question about drunk rapes. And I will tell you that in a bit.  But first before I was through, someone threatened her with rape because of her post and I am wired because of that.  I wanted to rip his throat out for his words, "I hope you get raped."

So, because confession is good for the soul, even though I have no soul, I am here to confess my not so but could have been rape if only.

The trouble is, I have a nearly perfect memory, not photographic, but close I remember actions and events near perfectly and I know when something is being made up in my memory and I know what is true.  So when I tell you these things I did I can tell you the total truth.  I don't know what colour her robe was or what what my girlfriend was wearing or what my friend was wearing either but I know that people were wearing clothes and just fill that in with something that I know is fake, but I know what was real.

October 31, 1996 was the day that I almost lost my virginity twice.  My girlfriend at the time, let us say friend, with a benefit package, did not love me but was anxious to lose her virginity as I was.  She was 22 and I was 24 and really it is not a big surprise that I took so long to have sex because I was foolish and believed in love and was an introvert and had a case of undiagnosed AS to boot.  I loved another, but had been told that she was not interested in me enough times that I was starting to get the message and my friend was not in love with me either she was interested in the guy that got away too, but she did want to have sex.  She was Asian.  She was actually Korean.  I may have said this before, I don't like to say it, but I am well endowed sexually.  Nothing gigantic, or horse like but enough that I was having a lot of trouble.  Digression, two virgins should never have sex, especially a well endowed person and an Asian. 

This was our second attempt and our second failure.  Wrong condoms, too small and e Internet was young back then and Google was still two years away, so I had to ask what to do and much later learned about lube.

It was Halloween and  I was in the depths of my Dark Blue period.  I was depressed.  I was still reeling from the worst 24 hour period in my life back in April, my bicycle was stolen and then later that day my house burned down.  No one died.  But everyone had minor property damage except me; I lost everything.  The fire did not start in my room, but it did start in the room beneath mine and fire goes up.  I had just scored a promised date from the person I loved the most, just before the fire, she promised to get me drunk as I never had, I was willing and I loved her.  She did not love me though.  She was gorgeous, short deepest brown skin and perfect white teeth and the broadest smile possible.  Date averted for later, it of course did not turn out well when it occured, no pity fuck for me.  But that was April.

Back in on Halloween, I had just gone to bed, depressed as usual, on a donated futon, with donated clothes behind a wall of curtains that I had made from wire and fabric strung around as my room in an open basement that contained the only toilet.  There were no windows, it was dark, just me and the centipedes.  I wanted to die.  But my only suicide attempt was two years in my past and I was too depressed to make a second try.  I was writing long dark scary emails to my friend India and having long conversations with Korea.  So everything sort of changed at 2 am November 1st, 1996.  I was going to convocated later that day, I was going to be the only one in jeans at that event, but that was a long time from this point. 

The phone rang and I answered and India, was calling me.  I thought because she was worried about me from all those really dark emails.  She told me that she wanted to see me that very night.  I got dressed in a flash and I thought, should I bring condoms, and I answered no, she does not want to have sex with you she is worried about you.  So I left them there.  Here comes one of those shady things but it is not, it is in perfect clarity. 

It had been raining and it was chilly there was the strong smell of leaves, no that is an invention, but it could have been there were many leaves on the ground and it was very wet, but I was worried I was in trouble so that was not important.  I lived on Crawford and Harbourd and she lived on Beatrice between College and Dundas.  I don't remember the partial run and quick walk, I know my friends saw me as they were talking in the car, because they told me later and they thought the fire siren was for me because I was rushing blindly to my possible doom.

I did wait for a moment to catch my breath because was out of breath, the light was eerie with its rays penetrating the trees with partially downed leaves everywhere and some still in the trees, the leaves stuck to the road wet and glistening and I went to knock on her door, private entrance basement apartment.  It took a while for her to get the door, I was worried that she had changed her mind and the alleyway was dark and I really was in the dark about everything.  

She opened the door and she was wearing a bathrobe and she appeared out of it, but I was always misjudging people, I thought she was angry or sad, I never thought drunk or high or both.  She never did drugs that I knew of.  She sat down on her bed and I sat on the floor as per usual, I always take the submissive role, besides I knew I was in trouble.  She got up and she approached me and I was worried until she sat on my lap and let the robe fall off.

When you are in love describing the person you love is not realistic, it is idealistic.  She was physically perfect.  Her bared breasts were in my face and I just opened my mouth to taste them.  Everything before and after is meaningless to what I saw and did that night, I was in love with this girl and she had made her true feelings show through at last; I was ready to believe in God.  

She would not kiss me though.  First clue.  She wanted me to go down on her and I was more than eager.  Nothing has tasted sweeter since that day.  I wanted to make her cum and she wanted me to make her cum more than I knew.  But I was inexperienced and I did not know what to do and I had tried to prepare for this day as best I could, but in the end I was inadequate and tongue tied.

Desiring her orgasim more than I knew she took off my pants, and said the words, "Don't make me pregnant, don't cum in me.". But she needn't have worried all my dreams coming true all at once completely overloaded me and I was as flacid as a wet noodle.  And she tried to get me hard and it failed.

She went to the bathroom and I lay back on her bed on cloud nine.  I was ready to try cunnilingus again, I could do it right this time.  There was nothing that could break my mood, I was the happiest I had ever been, not a mean feat for someone perpetually depressed from grade 2 onwards.  But she managed to push a little reality into me told me to get dressed and leave.  I hugged her because I loved her.  A few days later when I got home from Smallville, I had a message waiting for me on how I had taken advantage of her drunken state.  I crawled over to her house and left her a long letter because I was so confused.

She later told me that she had been drinking a lot and was mixing her meds, Prozac, because it was her last pill and she did not want it to end and it was all over, she wanted to cum, and none of her friends would touch her as she was drunk.  So she called me, a sure thing.  Clueless stupid Greenpsychopomp.  Wretched me.  I wanted to die.  I was back in my depression again trying to make it up to her.  Again and a gain I tried until she moved out and did not leave a number, twice.  You see I did not understand even then, until then; she did not love me and I still did even more than I did before I almost raped her.

But everyone I ask says that I did not, "almost rape her.". But I get reassured by them all and then go back to believing otherwise soon after, but I am not sure any more, again.

The Game

The Game

It is the game that all children want to play.  It the game that all adults play, often to prove they are adults, they play The Game.  The people who tell people they are not playing The Game are either tired of it or are just playing another strategy of The Game.

I like to roleplay.  I like to play Settlers of Catan.  I like to play most games and I am good at most of them especially if they involve a little bit of thinking and a little less chance.  Games of chance I am horrible with.  But The Game is not any game like that; it involves social skills, so I am terrible playing this game.  This game involves only two people, well usually.  I am beginning to think that there are different objectives for different people and different sexes.  I think women play the game differently than men and young people play it differently than older people; I do not play it well and usually not at all.

The Game is the game that men and women play together.

Most guys think the object is to get the girl to have sex with him.  Most girls, I am not sure what girls are playing the game for but I think they play it for security. Financial security, emotional support and a life partner.  I think, it is hard to tell because I have been such a bad player of the game usually failing the first gambit.  I think young women also play the game for sex and when they play it for that goal, they have a distinct advantage and are able to pick an choose.

The reason why I am a bad player is because I played the game with the wrong objective for my age group.  When women were looking for sex I was looking for a life partner and when they were looking for a life partner I was looking for sex.  Actually, I don't think I have ever been really looking for sex, except when I think that is what the other person is looking for.  I have been looking for a complimentary body, someone to talk with and be around.  And sex too, because I have been learning that couples that don't have sex or intimacy stop seeking it and fall into friendship.  Friendship is good, but it is limited.  

Friendship is great, don't get me wrong.  With the right friend you can climb mountains and defeat adversity, battling against the odds to win out.  But friendship lacks something.  Sex unlocks it.  That is, to be specific, sex with a committed friendship level relationship unlocks it.  Sex forms this attachment bond that when exists with friendship, can push the friendship further.  Like climbing mountains defeating adversity battling agains all odds to win out, possibly sacrificing something to do it.  

I have found that to play the game, it is important to be good looking.  Culturally acceptable beauty means that you can achieve your goal more often than not.  Cultural unacceptable beauty means you fail more often than you do and you have to rely on other means.  Social charm is the second most important helper in the game, it can be learned, but it is social and introverts are at a distinct disadvantage here, if you don't understand sociableness, you had better fake it; I fake it all the time, try to.  Wit and humor are also good but they are down the chain quite a ways.  Before someone can see you as witty or funny, they have to talk to you and often that won't happen if you are a failure in the first two areas.  Then humor is particular to different people and no humor is truly universal.  

So if I play The Game, I am typically looking for someone that I can be with, share my life and be my witness.  I am looking for a friends that I can talk deep into the night with and lose track of time with.  I am looking for someone I can take care of and be taken care of.  I am looking for someone who inspires thought in me every day.  Someone who I can make love to, knowing that the conversation we had just tabled will be opened up when we are finished.  Someone who finishes my thoughts as I start any sentence.

I am looking for a lot, but I am not looking for everything, just the core.  I thought I found it, but it was not there, just friendship.  It will take me sometime to really marshal up the energy to try again.  And there is no one around here that could come close to her.

I guess my goals are the same as most women, but most women I get the feeling do not know what they want.  It is rare to find all that in a culturally acceptably beautiful man if all they want is sex.  Same said for the socially gifted charmer, they are both looking to score and have gotten used to scoring.  Sure they are out there, they do exist, but they are rare.  When they get older they might be looking for something else . . ..  

Right now, I think, I will just stop looking.  I am tired and I hate losing.

People who win The Game, get to stop playing The Game.  They get to bask in the rewards and have children if they wish, they can get married, or not.  They can have sex or not, but they do not have to play The Game ever again if they wish it.  But everyone who does not win is destined to play the game again and a gain until they die or they win, because just refusing to play The Game, is still playing The Game.

The New Thinking Me

It is weird.  I was told to have a nice life two weeks ago and I accepted it, because I was the primary reason and the secondary reason.  The tertiary reason was her, that she was changing her views on life and relationships and I (the secondary reason) was not paying attention to that and I was thinking that everything about her was the same as it was before I met her.  The primary reason was so completely despicable that if I told my own mother what I did, she would divorce me.  Okay not that bad.  What I did was break confidence.  So I am not going to compound it by saying it here either.

What I am going to say is that I can't stop thinking about her.  And by saying that, nothing will change, because she is a person that does not flip flop, especially when she is right.  And if she reads this she might delete me from Facebook, just to end it all the faster for me.  I would not like that.  I see her life progressing without me and that is good because it lets me prick the bubble of my ego that I really do not have.  I read her blog, which I did not understand before she ended my participation in her life.  It is a blog that is a collection of things that she likes and less a direct expression of who she is, but this indirect blog allows her to flesh herself out by not lying about who she is, as many people do with written blogs.  You are what you like, I was told in High School.  She likes this quote, this picture, this concept; it is those things that she is.

Her picture is in my head.  I like her.  More than she will ever let me and because I did not pay attention, more than she ever wanted.  But because I am writing, I may be lying.  I may want her to read my words and to have doubt.  But I actually do not want my words to change her.  If I feel pain at my loss, it is my pain to feel and for the record I feel no pain.

I have note really written anything in two weeks, I want to but I don't.  I have a few things unfinished and my thoughts are writing things but they never hit paper.  Has this?

I have been very distracted recently.  This summer, actually.  I have not been able to remember things.  I have burnt three pizzas to I edible carbon and left the elements on innumerable times and my moods while not depressed, have been scaring people.  It might mean I am through with this town, but the problem is, I am not sure what town, city, country is left.  I have been losing context with everything.

Oh yes, and I am going to become and Uncle again soon, but never a father.

I have been sleeping more in the last week.  I have been trying to eat better, for the first time all summer.  That is I have cooked meals and eaten balanced stuff with vegetables and less, actually no pre made stuff.  And I have not watched porn for two whole weeks.  This is not to try to get her back, because if she texts me to say that I won't believe it. Or if she does I will check to see when she read this entry and I will have to deny her, because when someone breaks their routine it bothers me.  I am no longer her routine

Thanks for disturbing my routine and helping me think more about what I do.  Oh one more thing any suggestions that would let me not be so serious about everything?

Oh one last thing, that thing that I did that was an example of my male privilege upbringing has another possible explanation.  Something my friend told me, without knowing about that situation.  She said I have no boundaries.  It she is right, with my friends, the people I trust and unfortunately quite a few other people, I have no boundaries. My personal space starts at my skin.  Just food for thought.

The Cronicles of Porn

Porn is this product that men and some women consume because they are not happy with their own sexual lives.  If that was the only thing it was then it might be okay. But it is not.  It is about power.  When a man pictures himself as having power over these women, he pictures himself fucking them.  I know this because I am addicted to porn.  I am not sure if my sexual addiction comes from Porn or porn is what I use to satisfy my addiction.  Thought to say.

I was exposed to porn way before most people, looking through my Dad's Playboy collection at the age of five and having friends that talked about it constantly.  Friend, actually neighbourhood bully, but I guess friend too.  He was the youngest of 13 and he read their magazines and had stories of sex for years prior from his much older brothers.  He talked about his friend with the twelve inch dick, but he must have just been reading stories from the forums and internalizing.  Years later he raped his sister.  Because they were only stories and he wanted it so bad to be true, and the real world does not Work that way.

I was exposed to different ideas recently.  I realized that I only watched soft porn.  I realized that hardcore porn does not appeal to me.  Soft porn is about sex, even the ones where there is a man involved it is still soft, usually.  Except when the guy cums in the woman and it is not part of the program, then that is about rape, soft rape, but rape none-the-less.  When a man cums on a woman's face that is about power over women.  STDs can be transmitted from facials.  Mostly cumming on them is also bad but it can be done with consent, usually it is just accepted as part of sex, but it isn't.  

This was the beginning of the end:

"During the filming of Deep Throat, actually after the first day, I suffered a brutal beating in my room for smiling on the set. It was a hotel room and the whole crew was in one room, there was at least twenty people partying, music going, laughing, and having a good time. Mr. Traynor started to bounce me off the walls. I figured out of twenty people, there might be one human being that would do something to help me and I was screaming for help, I was being beaten, I was being kicked around and again bounced off the walls. And all of a sudden the room next door became very quiet. Nobody, not one person came to help me.

The greatest complaint the next day is the fact that there was bruises on my body. So many people say that in Deep Throat I have a smile on my face and I look as though I am really enjoying myself. No one ever asked me how those bruises got on my body.19

At another point in her testimony, Linda Marchiano said:

Mr. Traynor suggested the thought that I do films with a D-O-G and I told him that I wouldn’t do it. I suffered a brutal beating, he claims he suffered embarrassment because I wouldn’t do it. We then went to another porno studio, one of the sleaziest ones I have ever seen, and then this guy walked in with his animal and I again started crying. I started crying. I said I am not going to do this and they were all very persistent, the two men involved in making the pornographic film and Mr. Traynor himself. And I started to leave and go outside of the room where they make these films and when I turned around there was all of a sudden a gun displayed on the desk and having seen the coarseness and the callousness of the people involved in pornography, I knew that I would have been shot and killed.

Needless to say the film was shot and still is one of the hardest ones for me to deal with today."

— Linda Lovelace

If this is porn, how can I participate in the soft version of it?

So I am giving it a pass.

After day one, 27 hours, masterbation really sucks.  I have a shitty imagination and when ever I think about porn I see, I imagine a scene I never saw but was painted for me.  A man fucking a woman while she drowns in a toilet and I lose my erection. 

After another day I turned to literature.  Porn writers are mostly terrible.  Luckily the female writers tend to be better.  The problem is, is that writers of porn are people from my own male culture.  I want to be a better person; I want to earn your respect back.  I can't tell which writer is writing from a position where male dominance is refuted.  It is likely I as a male, I  would never be able to see it.

I miss women.  I don't need porn, but I liked it.  The problem was that it is boring.  It is not real and the people in it don't want me and if they saw me, they would not pick me.  I can't use my imagination, because I don't have one.  I can't fantasize about someone I know because the fantasy wears down the identity of the person in my head and I begin to blur that fantasy and the person.  I fell in love with more than five people this way, five women that did not want me falling in love with them.  Porn was a natural solution.  I did not know them, I would never meet them, I did not need to imagine them.  But.  But it is wrong.  Not knowing it is wrong and doing wrong is bad, but knowing wrong and doing it anyways, is worse.

I want to be happy, but realistically that is not going to happen.  I base my self on needing a relationship, whether it is because I can't get relationships so I need them or because my identity is based on who I am with.  I don't know.  I am not happy on my own and depending on someone else is bad, because when they go, I am screwed.  Porn is my relationship substitution.  

Seeking a relationship with Magic Eyes, was wrong.  Trying so hard to be perfect for her, has drained me.  Constantly texting, being her friend trying to keep her close, has drained me.  Every attempt drains me.  Every single attempt drains me so that I only make about one attempt every three months or so.  Magic Eyes left me with one more thought: every man treats every woman he dates as a game to be figured out and strategised to defeat and sleep with her.  

I agree with her statement.  I dated her because I wanted to sleep with her.  But I also disagree with her too.  Yes one of the goals of a relationship IS sex.  I wanted to make love with her, but it was not my only goal.  If it was my only goal then why talk with her why not just force her into it?  Was I trying to fool her, trick her into liking me enough for her to sleep with me?  Sometimes I worry that is what I was doing.  Am I doing it now?  

I was talking with a co-worker today, the new girl.  The new girl is more than ten years older than me.  I told her that someone described me as a feminist, I don't describe myself as a feminist; I can't, if I did then it would not be true because if I took that name or title I would be being disengenius as a man.  A man can be called a feminist by a woman, but a man cannot, because he does not truly understand.  A man does not understand, I do not understand the repression that my gender has imposed upon women, I do not see how I do it to women, but I do, because the male patriarchy has created our society and as a man the society was made for me and my wants.  Like porn.

I can describe myself as a humanist, that is it and only that far.  

The problem with that game of dating is that both genders play the game.  If I step out of the game, I will never have a relationship.  If I become a true feminist, I will never have a relationship.  Most of the women will think I am gay and treat me like their new best friend; I know this because when I don't act like a real man, that is how I am treated.  If I act that way to the small part of women that would respect that position, I would become a friend and ally to celibate women and lesbians, but as soon as I assert my gender, I become the enemy.  Women play the game too, most play the game.  They pretty themselves up for dates and they go for things that appeal to them, the muscular trim fit man, the dark hair, the ideal that they have been programmed to accept from childhood.  While physically strong enough to break most of those men, I am not aesthetically pleasing.  I fail the test of the latter women, but at the same time while I am more like the former man, the women that like those men, are not interested in relationships.

I realize that if I am going to be happy, it is time to end this life and start a new one.

I will hold out not doing the porn thing for a week at least.  I had decided that prostitution was over for me, but, that might be the only sex, pseudo relationships I will ever get now.  I don't have the energy to start another relationship this soon and even if I did, there is no one close by to have it with.

For a kiss

So I am constantly the author of my own destruction.  I could talk about how other people don't think that what I tell them does not apply to them equally, but in the end it is what I do that really matters.  And that in the end everything I do seems to lead to my own destruction.  Unintentionally, subconsciously whatever it is done by me to me.  And I always hurt the people around me.  There should be a sign over my head that reads get to know me at your own risk, because I will hurt you.

My first problem is that when I come up with an insight to my person I as often forget about it and think it as solved, no longer applying to me anymore.  When it is not true.  I have not stopped.  Years ago many decades beef ore I realized I have AS, i hated repeating myself in multiple conversations, way back before blogging was possible so I would repeat what I said in a different way, so that it was different. How that evolved into being a gossip I am not sure, but it happened.  Gossiping is about having new stuff to tell people every time you meet them.  New stuff.  And for an introverted recluse to have something new to tell every time is difficult.  When I had a new story about my life, it was like I had an audience listening to me.

Luckily I have never had too many friends, so gossiping takes on a new role, talking about your friends because you care for them.  It is still gossiping.  The trouble became identified to me because of roleplaying.  I would play these spy type characters that would find shit out, but what would happen is that I would be playing a lone wolf that had no one to report the information to so I would tell people in the game who did not need to know this stuff.  And my GM would get mad at me and eventually we would stop playing.

It was shortly, years, after that when I learned that I had AS that I started connecting the dots that I was getting pleasure out of communicating stuff about other people to other people.  Because I could be assured that people were listening to me.  That I was the center of attention.  I think that was my third epiphany.  And I tried to correct the issue, because I was endangering relationships that I did not want to endanger, I was fearful.  I was telling damning secrets just to be the center of attention.  And I hated that, so I tried to stop and I told people the mechanism behind my thoughts.  I told them that I get social validation out of sharing things with other people.

My relationship with More-Passive-Than-Rain was not working out, she had lied to me, through inaction and I came upon a fucked up plan to break it with her.  I decided that if I could find what I had with her with someone else, anyone else it was over and I could stop killing myself for her.  So I started sleeping with prostitutes.  Paying for sex.  This is how I discovered that I am not interested in sex but the dressing all around sex, the intimacy, the loving, the caring.  The kissing.  Very few prostitutes kiss, but I sought them out.  I fucking miss kissing.  I love kissing, I desire it above all else.  I would fuck anything if they gave me a kiss.  I would not fuck for a kiss.  I would kiss you for a kiss.  I would pay you for a kiss.  I paid women to kiss me, because they expected me to fuck them, I fucked them, but we could have stopped at the kiss.  I was robbed at one of these locations early on.  I needed it so much that I continued anyway.  And MPTR, well she could never kiss me, I needed her to kiss me, if she kissed me, I would still be her puppy dog, debasing myself for her.

Do you understand I think this is the worst secret that I have.  There is another.  I loved a fourteen year old.  When I was much older than fourteen, sure it was legal back then for a fourteen year old to have sex with a older person, but we didn't.  I wanted to, because I was in love with her.  Because I am a wacked AS person with no understanding that that was wrong, because love would make me do stupid things.  I never slept with her or brought it up because I believed that if we did she would regret it and I did not want to hurt her ever.  I still love her, love never goes away, it just gets buried with other things like guilt. 

What I am saying is that I can't change what I have said in the past, I can't balance it out with exposing myself on the Internet, but I want to show you how much I regret everything I say.

So a few years ago, I stopped gossiping.  I restarted talking with my friends about my friends because I care for them and things have been better.  But this only works if you can talk about it.  It only works if you can have an outlet.  You see, there are secrets and there are secrets.  There are secrets that everyone knows about, that are secrets that few know about and you can talk to your inner group of friends about.  And then there are  secrets you can't tell anyone about.  That is you can tell only talk about it with only two people, the person who told you plus anyone they told you that they told, and your life partner.  I have no life partner but I want to talk about it and there is no one I can talk to.  And there have been slips.  I start talking to people and I just keep going on through barriers that I have put up because i like my friends and I want to keep them.  And then I catch myself.  It is like in the face of this one secret, the other secrets do not matter as much.  And Magic Eyes, I am NOT talking about you.

I did this essay once in university, the only one I did the night before it was due and the only one that I got an A for.  It was about Alexander the Great.  Alexander the Great was this child and he had these childhood friends and they were badasses and they had this cunning strategy sessions and these kick ass soldiers, but most of all they had Alex, good old Alex.  Alex's dad had unified Greece and then left it for him, but he and his friends had to do better.  That was the key, he climbed a mountain and when he was done, he looked around and say his popularity flagging, so he climbed a bigger mountain.  Every time he fought a battle, he looked around for another battle and a bigger foe because to him it was not about conquest, it was not about empire building it was about keeping his friends.  So he took on India, and lost, because if you keep looking for someone bigger than you and more powerful than the last guy, you will eventually find him and he might not have heard how you kicked the other guys around and he was squashed.  And his ego vanished, because he was no longer Alex the undefeated, he was just Great, he was not the Greatest and then he died and his empire vanished with him.  He felt that he lost and could not keep his friends entertained so he gave up. 

How that applies to me, I tell people things because I want to be  the center of attention, and when I am there I don't want to give it up and I keep going.  And lately I have been feeling very low, and I want to be loved.  I want to kiss, so I do stuff that I should not do, because I need YOU to love me.  Right now if I wronged you I would be willing to tell you all the secrets I know, just to get into your arms, I would debase myself for a kiss.

The most illegal thing I have ever done was was walk on someone's car stopped across the cross walk.  The most wrong thing I have ever done was betray my friend's trust.  I had the opportunity to crush my bosses upper spinal column and skull last Friday, and I wanted to do that so badly, but I feel worse about betraying my friend's confidence, I would rather do the jail time for that piece of wasted skin, than be the jerk that I am to my friend.  And the best part is that I actually betrayed my friend to that very same friend, because I am such a useless piece of skin that I can't even text the people I want to text.  I love her, but I can't love her. And now I have betrayed her to her and I am scum. I am the bottom feeder that feeds off the bacteria that eats the feces of the things that eat pond scum.

Behaviour modification II

The funny thing is how it happens.  Someone presents this idea to me that I don't agree with, likely because it is something I have not thought about or because it is not in my best interest at the time, so I ignore it.  

I then listen to it and follow it.  I chew it over in my head and then I look at it from both sides.  Then I analyze it.  And if I find my earlier ideas lacking I change.  And sometimes it is because I need to change and sometimes it is because if I don't change I will be lost.  So I change.  Sometimes I change so I don't lose something that I think is important, sometimes something is actually someone.

Change is difficult.

Especially if it is something that I have been thinking for a very long time.  Take sex.  I want to have sex, a lot.  More than almost anyone on the planet, mostly because I don't get any.  So when someone comes along and I think I can have sex with them I get excited.  I NEVER force the issue, but I persist.  Even after I agree not to.  You see sex is two things.  It is a biological imperative, get out and reproduce.  And secondly it is a social reward, people gift themselves with when they get together and like each other.  It is a social reward that I have a hard time getting to enjoy.  It is like I don't deserve it.  I am not good enough to get it.  It is something that I have therefore begun obsessing over.

Here is the thing, how it applies to Magic Eyes.  Who has magical eyes.  She has told me that we will never have sex because she wants me as a friend only and I can't stop wanting sex, but I have with her because I would destroy our friendship.   

So I find my behaviour modified.  I still want sex, a lot of sex, but I have stopped  looking for it from her.  I have modified it so that I percieve that she is not what I am looking for.  She has in a sense become, "unattractive" to me.  

The bad news is now that that has happened, things will typically get dangerous.  I never fall for women that I can have sex with.  I fall for women that I am not interested in.  Is it because I am not looking for sex and so I learn who they are, I don't know, but now I fear falling love with her.

I still joke with her about me wanting her, but those are trained words coming from trained lips.  I don't feel it and I am afraid.

Lies to children

So I do not propose that you lies to children, but if a five year old asks you what the sun is and what is it made of telling them the complete and total truth would be as bad as lying to them.  Follow me:

The Sun is the where we get light it is like a large fire and is far away

Nothing exactly wrong but not even close to the truth.  But it builds on what they know without blowing their minds.  Or you could tell them that it is a ball of superheated Plasmic hydrogen and helium under intense pressure fusing the three isotopes of hydrogen to create more helium and energy, in the triple-alpha reaction, that passes from one atom to the next ionizing the plasmatic gas and re-emitting it as light in a long journey from the center of the star to the surface that takes a million years before it is reemmited at the speed of light as a wave and a particle to bounce around our environment to give us the light we see and the heat we feel.  That explanation is also correct and would fry the brains of most Highschool students let alone the five year old.

When the student understands the first statement and the building blocks of the next stage you can tell them more:  The Sun is a star at the center of our solar system.  Stars are made of hot gases.

An introduction to the solar system, some five year olds know this better than their parents, but some don't know a thing, so an introduction to the solar system is in order.  Knowledge of the first three stages of matter, solid, liquid and gas is necessary.  Fire is a gas.  

That explanation is good enough for most people for their entire life, but some people what to know more.  

The sun is one of countless stars in the galaxy, and they are made of a super heated form of gas that acts as a liquid called plasma.  It is held in place by gravity and the gravity of the star compresses the hydrogen in the star and fuses it to make helium and energy.  

E=MC^2, basic cosmology, the life history of a star, luminosity of stars, nuclear fusion.

People sometimes want to know more and that goes to the limit of my knowledge, the details of the stages of the triple-alpha reaction, the secondary reactions that give us lithium and everything up to carbon and oxygen, not to mention the blow out of the star and the possible creation of higher level periodic elements and how this happens.  Singularities and Hawking radiation and the big bang from the first few milliseconds to the present.

Asking one question could have answers that trigger an exploration of science and mathematics.

Where does "this" rock come from?  Do you stop at sedimentary, igneous and metamorphic in grade four or do you talk about the history of the planet, right from the creation of elements in the hearts of long dead suns billions of years ago and the long process of creation on Earth for millions of years.

We lie to children so not to overwhelm them while providing them the knowledge that they can understand.

Go lie to children arm them with the truth so they can find more truths by lying to them.