But if I wanted to pretend to be one, this is the season. Halloween is on its way. When you’re a kid, the fun of Halloween is in pretending to be someone else (and to get giant sacks of candy). As adults, the festivities transition into a party-based celebration. But my theory is that puberty gives guys a different experience: for them, Halloween becomes sexy.

Here’s the logic behind this theory. Biology drives males to mate with as many different females as possible, to maximize the likelihood of successful conception. Deep in the back of every dude’s animal brain, there’s a promiscuous itch, and most of them succeed in ignoring that itch. They form healthy relationships with their partners and stay faithful to them. But, that impulse is still rolling around in there. Luckily, it’s pretty easy to fool the animal brain with a little misdirection, and that’s where the costumes  come in to play. By throwing on a suggestive dress and a wig, your life partner transforms into someone different, a new conquest for your primal instincts. So, the fortunate fellow gets to remain faithful and true to his one and only, while indulging the tiny monkey in his head, howling and beating his chest in victory. The promise of Halloween is the illusion of promiscuity.

The costuming effect also allows for the partners to change their respective sexual roles as well. Normally, men play the role of seducer, carefully working to entice their partner into a state of ready passion. Men are easy to arouse,  so there isn’t a lot of effort needed to talk a guy into sex.  But if you look past the quick physical response, there’s also a need to be seduced themselves. The sexy outfit can be a part of the role of the pursuer, the seductress who will lure her target into her sensual embrace with her feminine wiles. It works for costumes, or for lingerie. By taking the time and effort to dress up in a uniform of seduction, she makes it loud and clear that she wants him to feel desired and important. She isn’t assuming that he’s always raring to go (even though the odds are good that he will be, at least physically).

Of course, there is the obvious visual stimulation of sexy clothing, and men are so very visual when it comes to arousal. And,  I  may spend far too much time over-analyzing everything, so maybe the visual appeal is the only part that matters to most guys. But don’t we all feel a little bit more special when someone works for our attention?

 

I’m scatterbrained and unsettled tonight so there is no promise of an enjoyable read. I wonder if I should even blog when I’m in some sort of funk.

Intellectually, I know none of my problems are unsolvable or unbeatable. The catch is that I’m running low on the will to keep fighting the seemingly endless cavalcade of roadblocks and interpersonal complications. Even setting up a simple weekly night of socializing and game playing turns into a ill-tempered battle of hurt feelings and unmet expectations.

In my youth spent being blissfully unaware and uninterested, I put little stock in the friendships around me. Some of them were truly disposable, fashioned out of a common desire to drink and watch our lives spiral into comfortable failure. The other friendships meant a lot to me, and still do, but the connection between us drifts further and further apart as the days pass.

And now that I want to be an example of strong, positive relationships to Max, I can’t manage any.  I don’t know if my expectations are unrealistic, or if I’ve just been to self-absorbed. There is every chance that it’s natural to  outgrow a friendship as your lives go in different directions, but your entire peer group? The last thing I want to teach Max is how to be an isolated introvert, but these days I just can’t seem to get any relationship right.

At least I’ve learnt this much: whenever I’m this sad, it’s very likely that I’m over-tired and a good night of sleep will take a lot of the gloom off of things. Here’s to restful slumber.