I think I'm from another planet and that I was brainwashed to believe I was an earthling. Here's why. I think I'm right more than I'm not, though it never seems to be a shared opinion. I think I understand the reasons why some things happen and how other things might turn out but I'm typically regarded with somewhat less authority or ability than those who respond to my musings even while they find themselves in a position I remember describing or can easily explain.

Of course no hunt for the truth can begin without proper disclosure. So, I'm hereby disclosing that I'm a male, which brings its own limitations. I'm easily distracted by soft curves that vanish under necklines, and anything that sparkles. I tend to prefer the bird in the hand but I'll always pine for the two in the bush. I'm an overly strict parent because I survived (barely) all the trouble a kid could get into and I recognize the patterns. I think everything on TV, especially commercials, is all part of a plan, and I think sex is really just WD-40. Okay, yes, its other things too, but as long as you remember to clean up the overspray, when applied liberally, at least in a relationship, it seems to make everything else work a little easier, look a little nicer, and last a little longer. According to WebMD, it'll even make most of us a little happier. Given the current state of our reality, what I don't understand is why anyone would not want the extra large can.

I just turned 55. I'm 6'2", float between 200 and 220 pounds, and my hair is still mostly red. I'm told I'm not difficult to look at, though the only cover I'd ever wind up on is Mad Magazine. I love my job and I earn way more than I ever thought I would. I can paint a house, fix your computer, and iron my dress shirt or her silk blouse, in a hurry. I own my favorite car. Its an old Volvo station wagon. I read a lot and I always have a new idea that would make a million dollars. I'm an above average skier and I can still run flat out for 2 or 3 minutes, or until I catch my kid, whichever comes first. And I love sex. No, I mean really!

How then do I live in a sexless marriage. How is it I survived all my best intentions and married the woman of my dreams, only to find my can is empty and the store is out of stock, indefinitely. Worse it seems, however unbelievable, I still get aroused if the wind changes. With a little practice, I can last an hour easy. I think goosebumps are the ultimate accomplishment and the only thing I love more than my pleasure, is hers. In the few and far between moments that my wife doesn't hate me, she'll actually attest to this.

So I'm here, looking for reason, or redemption, or a real Cylon detector. Got one?