Couldn’t sleep last night. Went to bed at the normal time and everything seemed right on track, but then the theme song from the old television program ER kept repeating in my mind and as many of you know it’s not exactly a calming “let’s get some sleep” music. Fortunately, I did have a short nap in the mid evening after eating a huge bowl of Poke and having ingested and hand full of baby bottles of Jack Daniels. I’d try again now but I’m meeting someone to check out some camera gear at 11am, no point in forcing myself to sleep then forcing myself back up in a few hours (once I’m asleep I generally sleep like a log, especially when my sleep schedule has been thrown off as much as it is).
Fortunately, I didn’t spend my evening spinning on thoughts that upset me. Sure, some surfaced in my mind, but I let them go, choosing instead to let my mind spin on space aliens, programming solutions to issues I’ve been working on recently, things I was hoping to do over the weekend, and so on and so forth. At some point I started thinking about some of my past relationships and in particular started to wonder how many women I’ve been with, sexually speaking, when my male monkey mind started fantasizing about sleeping with one women from every country in the world—okay, maybe that’s too unrealistic for a fifty something married man like me—so maybe just a woman from every state? Would give me an excuse to travel to exotic places as part of my photography addiction while enjoying sex positive friends with benefit sleep overs. Ah, the creative fantasies I have when I’m otherwise off the market.
Of course, me being me, I continued to noodle on the idea. How would I do such a thing? It’s not like I’m some sort of Casanova. And it doesn’t help that I’m on the spectrum, that I’m 51, and that my health has seen better days. Still, what would it take? Then I thought, what about a sex positive documentary series following me on this quest. Maybe I could start working four day work weeks and spend three day weekends on this side gig, earning a little cash while interacting with a broad array of interesting people while getting my nut off. I thought about what this might look like in real life, me not being especially comfortable on the other side of the camera and all, and came to the conclusion it’s just not me—besides, the idea would probably be taken by people in the sex industry who, unlike me, have the resources and the bodies and the personalities to make it interesting. So I tossed that and idea.
What about a podcast?
I’d thought about doing a podcast in the past, but something more specific to my professional life (i.e. the world of so called “DevOps”). But there are just way too many podcasts and YouTube videos and online trainings on the subject and frankly, I lost my love for being behind a computer monitor on my off hours, something that I’d been the exact opposite of for over two decades of my life (which frankly was one factor in my starved social life and subsequent health issues). But a podcast about this sexual fantasy? Nah. I had to admit that rambling around was just a thought to keep me otherwise entertained while I tossed and turned, waiting for that crucial moment when the lights when out. And yet the idea of a podcast that had something to do with sexuality stuck with me. Wouldn’t it be refreshing to be able to talk about it openly and freely, even if the podcast never became popular or earned me money (or, back to the fantasy, got me laid)? Then, of course, the deep seated self doubt set in. Could I do a podcast (about anything!) if I think I have a hangup about my voice sounding (to me) like Kermit the Frog? And if I did one what would it be about? The internet is flooded with sex, sex, sex, and sex, what value might I add besides a need to do something with some hope of a little side income to help pay off the house? And what would I call it? Sex Positive seemed all but natural, but surely it was already a podcast (apparently it is!). What name would jump out at people like two of my favorite podcasts (the Beginning Photography Podcast and Straight White American Jesus)?
Got out of bed, went out for a smoke, then took a shower. Didn’t make the time to fit one in yesterday, way too focused at work, and I was kicking myself as I’m sure it was one reason I couldn’t sleep (I have sensitive skin and tend to get itchy if I don’t shower daily). While brainstorming in the shower I thought about how my sex life has, in some ways, been unique because I am, as I’ve mentioned before, on the Autism Spectrum. Then it hit me: Sex on the Spectrum.
So what would it be about?
Well, for one, I’d do something I’ve had few opportunities to do in “real life”, that is, talk about my sexual experiences and views on sex as they’ve evolved over my fifty or so year life. And what about interviews? I’d love to interview all sorts of people about the same thing. People I’d like to hear from: sex therapists, relationship counselors, strippers, polyamorous persons, monogamous people, strippers, sex workers, asexual folks, people of all sexual persuasions, and the like. It’d also be interesting to have call in episodes where random folks might share their stories, frustrations, fantasies, concerns, or just ask for a little help building the sexual life that works for them. The possibilities, I realized, were nearly limitless. My only concerns were a) how would my wife react, b) what technical knowledge (and equipment) would I need, c) do I have the motivation to create something worth listen to and consistently create new content, and finally d) would I be able to push past my default autistic trait of being generally reserved, verbally speaking, or at the very least, being someone that expresses himself verbally in short, focused, almost Vulcan sentences.
I can hear it now, “Hi, I’m Aslynn. I’ve had sex and I really like it. I think you should have it too. Until next time, thank you for listening to this podcast.
*sigh*
But, like many of my ideas, it’ll probably fade once I go about my day and fit in a siesta. It’ll be too much work, I’ll think to myself, and my wife won’t support me. Besides, who’ll care? It’s not like I’m some twenty something girl showing off my wares on social media—I’m a balding 51 year old hippie long haired programmer with a medium sized pot belly. Then again, I’m on the spectrum and have had a relatively rich sex life, maybe that’s something people might want to hear about. And maybe in pushing against my fears I’d become more confident. And wouldn’t it be cool to get to a point that through advertising or a low barrier pay wall I could make enough cash to pay off some utility bills, maybe my car, even, and yeah this is crazy, my house? Yeah, maybe I’m selfish but that seems worth the effort, at least make it something worth considering even if I crash and burn after a few episodes. Can’t fail if you don’t try. Can’t succeed either.
Then again, I’ll probably forget about it after my afternoon nap.
On an unrelated note I’ve had a short story spinning around in the back of my mind. It might be the first time I’ve decided to write a short story about me, for me, and something I might share, or may not. Not sure if and when I’ll get to it, after all, when I used to have stories in me they became intense works of almost manic love where I could write for hours and hours, days and days, at a time, until my work was “finished” (and they’re never fucking finished, g’damnit!). But hey, it’s another thing worth doing if only to express parts of myself that have been trapped inside me and frankly have been driving me insane at times from time to time to time.
Anyhoo, good morning. Maybe I will lay down for a bit, see if my brain and body will accept a short nap before I have to wake up and head out.
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