Other people see maybe one percent of what really goes on inside my head. They think I'm decisive and capable because they don't know I'm confused and overanalyze and then finally make a wild guess about what to do. When it works, they talk about how brilliant I am but I know I had no idea; when it fails, they still think it was a good try.

And nobody has any idea how much of what goes on in my head is just about sex.

They're impressed because they don't know who I really am. They know who I pretend to be for their benefit.