"I feel like there are these two people who inhabit my head. One is the normal me, who makes the rules I live by and tries to follow them. Then there is the sexual part of me who doesn't know the rules and doesn't really communicate with the rest of me well. But the normal me can't enjoy sex and sexual, flirtatious things, so it has to let the other one in from time to time. But the sexual part of me can't be trusted, so there's a constant conflict."
"Tell me about this sexual person. What is he like?"
"He's an asshole. All he wants is to get laid, and he'll spend 24 hours a day seven days a week to that end if I let him. He'll make promises that I can't keep. He doesn't care who he hurts. He's a doofus. He's not the sort of person I'd be friends with; he's not even the sort of person I'd want to be at the same party with. He gets me into trouble all the time. I don't respect anything about him, except that I envy his access to my sexuality."
"Under what circumstances does Doofus take over?"
"Lets say I'm at a party and somebody gives me an earwich. An earwich is when two people each start licking and kissing a third person's ears. It sends most people into the oxygen-deprived areas of the upper atmosphere, sometimes loudly. Now, the normal me is unable to enjoy receiving an earwich, but the Doofus sees it as an opportunity to grope the earwichers and plot to get either or both of them in bed with me. So if such an occasion arises, I have to negotiate with the Doofus, saying `I'll let you into my head for the duration of the earwich, but only if you behave yourself and only if you return control to me.'"
"Sounds like it's a manageable thing, then."
"Not really. When I banish the Doofus it just lurks around in the shadows of my mind doing its plotting. Sometimes it does things with me and to me without my conscious knowledge. The other day I put on a pair of silk boxers that I never wear except on special occasions. I justified it to myself as just being an extravagance I unfairly deny myself, and an expression of my un-stick-in-the-mudness. But in retrospect, I'm sure that Doofus was remembering the remarks of a woman I at the time had no conscious intention of sleeping with saying how she thought that boxers were very sexy and that briefs turned her off."
"Did it work."
"Yes. We were at the hot tubs and when I was taking off my clothes she went ape over the boxers. We ended up spending the night together."
"Who slept with her? Was it you or was it Doofus?"
"Well. Let me think. I guess it was me. But Doofus was the intermediary who got me from here to there."
"Is it a problem that you slept with her?"
"Well, I don't know. It was wonderful. I had a great time, and so did she, and I know she doesn't expect a relationship out of it and I don't think it will hurt our friendship at all, but she's also been sleeping with a friend of mine, and I'm worried about how he will feel. I asked her afterward if she thought he'd be upset and she said she didn't know. Chances are it won't be a problem, but..."
"It sounds like Doofus plays Russian Roulette."
"Can you do something for me? It may seem kind of stupid."
"Okay, stand up. The office is kind of small, but try walking in a circle around the office. Okay. Now I want you to walk as the logical Elvis without Doofus and without your sexuality. Feel what it feels like to be that person and walk like that person. What are you feeling?"
"I'm feeling powerful, like now I can take my dreams and turn them into plans. I'm clear about my place in the world and feel like I've got motivating force. But I'm on the upswing in my moods right now. When I'm on the downswing this same person feels very alone and purposeless."
"Okay, now I want you to let Doofus start walking."
"Why are your hands back there?"
"I don't know. I noticed that too."
"Really get into it. What are you thinking? Why are you walking that way?"
"I'm plotting. I'm scheming. I've got one thing on my mind but at the same time I'm full of ideas. I'm spinning scenarios and I'm thinking up good lies to tell. I'm confident and strangely unconscious of how dependent my whole raison d'être is on a single desire."
"Now I want you to be the sexual Elvis, the one who enjoys pleasuring and being pleasured, and is in bed after Doofus has done whatever he does and is no longer needed... Why did you stop walking? Start walking again."
"I can't find him. Let me try. Just a second."
"You stopped walking again."
"I can't get to him."
"Can you let Doofus out about 25% of the time into your normal life?"
"I'd feel like I'd just become 25% more asshole. It would be like letting loose a hurricane."
"Better a hurricane than a tornado. That's what you've got now. You keep it bottled up, and then it springs out totally out of control, doing random damage."
"I'm still not convinced it's safe to let the genie out."
"Why don't you try over Burning Man and then tell me how it went?"
"Okay, I'll give it a shot."