so very alone…

It sounds simple for someone like me — I hate the word “virgin” — to go to Las Vegas and have sexual relations with a prostitute. Before I flew out last week, it all seemed so easy. Just pick up a pamphlet, make a call, and wait for the Special Someone to show up at my hotel room. But what about my racing mind? And what about love? The idea of casually separating love and sex seems wrong on a sub-atomic level. Besides, I’d just end up making a fool of myself, getting charged extra, and then getting beat up by a pimp. No thank you.

I’m going to have faith in my ability to rise to the level of normalcy.

Isolation score: 9 

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When I mentioned in a previous post that it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex, I was not being entirely truthful. It is true that I have not had sex in a long time, to the extent that it has been my entire life.

I don’t consider myself a homosexual, but at this point I’m beginning to think I can’t legitimately claim to be heterosexual, either.

Isolation score: 9

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Sometimes I have general pangs of desire directed at nothing.

Isolation score: 9

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You always hear about how Las Vegas is this great place to find a prostitute, but I’m beginning to be surprised that anyone ever finds a prostitute there at all.

I got into Las Vegas about 10:45 at night Saturday and took the Casino’s complimentary shuttle to my hotel.

I went to the room’s phone book, and there must be 500 or more pages of Escort Services in the yellow pages.

I was not expecting it to be so difficult to figure out who to call.

After about two hours, I settled on a service, mostly based on the picture. I liked her outfit. Sexy, but not scarily freaky or anything.

But then I thought about how the conversation would go when I made the call, and I just couldn’t picture a scenario where I didn’t sound like a pervert. I just couldn’t do it.

I didn’t sleep at all Saturday night. I’d lay in bed, get my courage up, go to the phone, and then I’d back down.

By the time I had to go back to the airport, I was frazzled and just wanted to get out of this town. Also I felt a little bit gross from having watched the first few minutes of three different pay-per-view movies in the hotel.

So now I’m back home and at work, and I’m so angry at myself for not having the courage to make that call. It’s not like they’re not used to getting calls from people wanting their services, right? I mean, I can’t be the first guy to ever call a place like that for the first time. They wouldn’t laugh at me, right?

I’m going to do some research on the Internet, and next weekend I’ll go back, this time armed with the knowledge I need.

Isolation score: 10

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It’s been so long since I’ve had sex. And I just realized how silly that is.

I’ve bought a plane ticket. I’m flying out tonight, coming back tomorrow. I won’t have to miss a single day of work.

I’m going to Las Vegas!

Isolation score: 0

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I’ve been reading a little bit about lucid dreaming because I hear that you shape your world to be whatever you want while you’re asleep.

Really, I just want one thing from lucid dreams: I want to be able to fly.

I’ve been trying the last few weeks, and last night I had what I think was my first lucid dream. But it didn’t work out the way I had hoped.

In my dream, I was in a large, crowded elevator. I became aware I was dreaming, because in real life if I see a crowded elevator, I’ll wait for the next one, or if an elevator becomes crowded, I’ll get off on the next floor. So I realized this couldn’t be real.

I willed the ceiling of the elevator to disappear, and it did!

All I needed to do now was fly. I stretched out my arms, but nothing happened. I stayed in the elevator.

Everyone else in the elevator, on the other hand, had no such difficulty. One by one, they each jumped and flew away. A couple of them first looked at me like it was my turn, but I just waved them on.

Isolation score: 7.9

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Do you ever have the feeling that everything you do and everything you say and everything you write is pointless?

Isolation score: 9.5

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I just called my sister and told her I have strep throat and that the doctor says I’m contagious. She probably knows I’m lying. But she’d have to drive three hours to prove it, and I know for sure she isn’t going to do that. She has NEVER driven out to my house. Not even once. If I see her, it’s because I make the trip.

You know what? I’m going to the store right now to buy a cake mix and a quart of top-notch ice cream. You know how most people spend hours and hours working on cooking Thanksgiving dinners, and then more hours cleaning up, just so they can have their favorite food?

Well, my favorite food is cake.

Tomorrow, I’m going to make a cake and eat the whole thing, with as much ice cream as I want.

And with each bite, I’m going to be thankful that I don’t have dishes to clean up, or a stupid sister to put up with.

Isolation Score: 7

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My sister called again. She wants to know if I’m going to make the 3-hour drive to be with her on Thanksgiving. I know it sounds pleasant on the surface, but my brother-in-law’s family will be there, and let’s just say that spending time with those drumstick-eating jocks isn’t fun for me. I don’t like being the object of ridicule. They call me a “band fag” even thought I didn’t make it on my high school band. When I tell them this yet again, they just laugh and look at each other and laugh some more. Hey you, want another wine cooler? Yuk yuk yuk. If I happen to like wine coolers more than Miller Lite, does that mean I’m a lesser person? And even if his family weren’t coming, there’s the whole underlying issue of Sheila pumping herself up by feeling sorry for me. If I had my own family, I would dearly love to not invite Sheila over for Thanksgiving. I would call and say something like, “Hey Sheila, I know that deep down, you’re a lonely person, and I’d like to take this opportunity to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving from a distance. I’ll be spending the day with people who don’t pity me and who don’t think they’re superior to me just because they have bratty children and a dwimmerlaik husband.”

No, I wouldn’t really say that. But sometimes I’d really like to.

Isolation score: 8

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And in the nick of time! I have to say, opening a box from amazon.com is almost as exciting as opening a gift on Christmas morning. In some ways, it’s better, because I know I’m getting something good, not a Dating for Dummies book or a Girls of MSU calendar. I guess I shouldn’t complain. Maybe it’s just me, but some gifts are better off ungiven. Anyway, here’s what Amazon sent me:

Ender’s Game Gift Edition - I’ve already read this book a dozen times (who hasn’t?!), but I’ve never read the special gift edition. My original plan was to read this on Thanksgiving Day so that lunch at Arby’s won’t be quite as depressing, but I honestly don’t know if I can hold out that long.

Masterpieces: The Best Science Fiction of the 20th Century - Even though it’s an Ace production, which as you know is notoriously mediocre, Orson Scott Card is the editor. I always want to hear what he has to say. I can’t wait to read his introductions to some of my favorite stories. There is one drawback. I don’t know how anyone can call a collection of sci fi stories “masterpieces” without including stories by Bester, Wolfe, Zelazny, and Robert Reed. I shouldn’t get too worked up about what’s missing. I should enjoy what I have.

Law & Order - The Fifth Year - You might think this DVD is a waste of money because I can catch Law & Order reruns on A&E, but I assure you, it’s not a waste of money. First off, reruns have commercials, and when a commercial comes on an 2:15 a.m., you’re pulled briefly back into the real world of night demons who are all too unforgiving. Another problem with reruns is that you have no control over who’s going to be in the episodes. I like Chris Noth better than Benjamin Bratt or any of the later guys, and I like Sam Waterston much more than that wet noodle Michael Moriarty. And Season 5 is the only season that has both Chris Noth and Sam Waterston. This DVD is like a suit of armor that repels the Forces of Night.

Isolation Score: 3

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