IQ, Wealth, and Misleading Science

A longitudinal study on 7,403 persons run from 1979 until 2004 has failed to correlate intelligence to wealth, although it confirmed a correlation to income found in a variety of other studies (e.g. Brown and Reynolds, “A Model of IQ, Occupation and Earnings,” The American Economic Review, Vol. 65, No. 5, Dec., 1975, pp. 1002-1007, and many others).

The sample population for this study came from the 1979 National Longitudinal Study of Youth managed by the Bureau of Labor Statistics of the US Department of Labor. The measure of wealth had to do with a variety of personal financial indicators such total wealth, income, and hardships such as credit card debt. The measure of intelligence was the Armed Forces Qualification Test.

All three of these parameters have come under considerable scrutiny, in particular after the release of the very contentious Libertarian book, Bell Curve: Intelligence and Class Structure in American Life, which at best served as a warning as to how poor statistics could be used in a non-peer-reviewed forum to mislead a large audience because their logic can be reduced nicely into a media-sized logical-sounding soundbite. (Other examples of this sort include The Population Bomb by Paul Erlich, as well as books like The Silent Spring or, in all likelihood, An Inconvenient Truth; all examples of well-meaning authors reporting second-hand poor science to make an otherwise important point. Too bad the poor science has often misled humanity into solutions that end up causing more human suffering than the problem at hand.)

But all those caveats aside, I do not find this latest result at all surprising, although by its small sample size it does not cover the extremely wealthy nor extremely intelligent. Of the very wealthy self-made people I find above average intelligence, but if I were to sweep in a lot of n-th generation wealth, this would drop toward the mean. Contrary to Murray (Bell Curve) I tend to see wealth as far more heritable a property than intelligence. Conversely I see many highly intelligent persons who do not focus on wealth, seeing instead other areas that merit their considerable attentions from which their intellects receive generous non-financial rewards. Those who do focus on wealth seem to do reasonably well, but this is always adjusted against fortune and opportunity which are unpredictable. Much like the tricky statistical observation that you have to look at the probabilities that people do not share a birthday when measuring the likelihood that two people in a group do share a birthday, proper statistics must measure what leaks out of the closed population.

You just cannot discount luck away from any hoard of vast wealth. Remember I am talking about the extremes here.

This reminds of me of any number of examples of “hanging out” with the super-intelligent crowd and having to conceal wealth so as not to create a knee-jerk negative social reaction, or likewise with the super-wealthy and the need to conceal intelligence. Weird how those barriers can arise.

Oops, sorry, was that arrogant? ;-)

In the more normative case there is good reason to pursue education and knowledge; these are not the same as intelligence and have a strong correlation to improved success when compared to the alternatives. But beware of linearly extrapolating to the very ends of the bell curve.

The other night at a cancer fund raiser there was spirited discussion about recent results linking vaginal and oral sex partners to increased incidences of esophogal cancers, lending credence to the HPV infection route for such cancers. I continue to find it amazing how much the media, in its benign desire to simplify messages for their audience, ends up distorting the public view of statistical results. Even the press coverage on the HPV vaccination contraversies is full of statistical misunderstandings.

Could these memes be part of a new evolutionary IQ test that will push us to the next stage of evolution?

Or more importantly, how this will affect the oral sex availability in the provider market?

;-)

West Coast Host

I hosted Mark again, alternating back to the West Coast.

First we met in Los Angeles.

As part of my host duties I arranged some entertainment for him. As you may recall from a previous post, Mark had been appreciative of the eye candy but disappointed in the skills level of the previous American arrangements when compared to the skills available in Asia.

My difficulty in arrangements was compounded by the fact that these days many of the top Internet-accessible providers have become more security conscious. This is entirely defensible — it's a harsh world out there, and certain activities even among consenting adults could be considered illegal in the United States due to confusions over orthogonal monetary transactions. So it is important to be conservative. But it does mean that arranging company for an unreferencable foreigner such as Mark can become quite challenging.

But with persistence, doable.

I arranged a woman who had adult entertainment credentials and the benefit of excellent on-line reviews. (I have written previously on the oddity of provider reviews.) More importantly, she had some, um, previous background in Asia. The adult media entertainer isn't my kind of thing, per se, but I figured if 1:1 skills were not going to be the main selling point I might has well go with looks and experience with male sex fantasies. She was a knockout blonde and had three hours to make Mark happy. Apparently Mark was pleased; any deficit in skills was more than made up by enthusiasm, a clever mind and, just maybe, the notion he was with an adult starlet. And she was quite gorgeous.

We then headed up to the Bay Area for an overnight. We had some business and he had a meeting with a friend, Tom, and a golf game.

For a change in experience I arranged a lovely coed, Sally, who was an economics major in one of the better University of California schools not in the Bay Area. She met us in San Jose and supplied Mark quality company and a golf partner. Tom had brought his own companion from Asia, Mia. That is fairly common; in fact we did something that for our Whistler party.

Oops, timeout. I just checked and noticed that I did not post about the Whistler experience in the old blog, probably because the writing time overlapped with the time I was getting heavily involved with Jenny. Short version:

---

The trip was a four-person six-day ski trip to Whistler: Lau, Mark, Park and myself. We rented a very large five bedroom ski-in/ski-out home sitting off of Blackcomb (my preferred mountain,) but I was completely unable to arrange female company of adequate quality. So after two days of poor company Park made a few phone calls and flew in six women from overseas.

As I said, apparently this is not uncommon. These days I often am propositioned with this in Asia -- women who, knowing I am “attached,” will remind me that they have an up to date passport with the appropriate visas. It seems strange to treat female companionship like takeout pizza, but I suppose since it is voluntary and enjoyed on all sides, why not?

Some day I should blog that story. It is far more complicated than I can give justice here, since Park tried to convince me to bring Jenny...

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Ok, back to the story in California: I do not play golf, so Mark, Sally, Tom and Mia made a handsome golf foursome. I went to other meetings.

Tom was the CEO of a successful Asian business that had just cut a major contract with an international sports figure the previous day. He was riding high on this success. He was a long-time friend of Michael and Mark, and this was to be my formal introduction to him.

All six of us took the short jet hop back to Santa Monica airport, checked into what Mark called “The Pretty Woman hotel” for the benefit of Mia. She was not impressed when (The Artist previously formerly known as Prince and now again known as) Prince walked by with his entourage, but was absolutely ga-ga when she spied some strapping young male actor who I did not recognize. Generational difficulties, you know.

Then it was dinner at Cut.

A few words about Cut: I am not ordinarily a fan of Wolfgang Puck restaurants. But I am a fan of Wagyu Kobe beef. The real stuff, not the largely inferior cross-bred American Style Kobe beef product.

Wagyu Kobe is a particular breed of Wagyu beef (Tajima-ushi) given regular massages and a diet of select grains which leads to intense marbling and a great flavor. It has a higher amount of monounsaturated fats and is therefore likely to be healthier for you than beef that appears to have less fat content but has more bad fat. Wagyu Kobe beef is only surpassed by Matsusaka beef, which is cut only from female cows kept on an exercise regimen, fed tofu, wheat and beer, and massaged with a strong liquor rubbed into their hide.

The fetishistic breeding and care of these cattle is in part due to Japanese culture and in part due to their mountainous geography which encouraged small populations of cattle and experimentation with breeding and feed. A feudal fad for beef around 1900 created a bubble economy in Japan for exotic breeds of imported animals for breeding purposes which burst in 1910, but left behind knowledge, training, and a population of animals genetically bred to produce the tastiest, healthiest beef in the world.

Well, outside of Japan there aren't many great places to get great Wagyu, but Cut does a competent job. Some Asians prefer the less fatty hybrid Wagyu when they come to America; since they are so used to the amazing beef available in Asia they want a change. But I recommend Cut as a place you can try the outrageously expensive Wagyu beef in the US. They don't have a huge selection of Kobe beef, and in particular I have never seen the Matsusaka beef, but it's worth a try. Especially if somebody else is paying.

Cut also has a reasonably good wine list.

Sally loved it.

Worth mentioning: there was an interesting thing I arranged at Cut. In order to provide a conversation starter, I had asked a recognizable actress (a friend of a friend) to show up at Cut, greet my table, give me a kiss, accept a business package “for Skippy, who is really looking forward to this deal,” and then leave.

It did start some conversation.

Sally loved that, too.

After Cut it was off to a room salon. We revisited Garam, a good salon in Los Angeles. It is a relatively fancy place and looks more like a mansion than a typical room salon (unfortunately it changed ownership and is scheduled to close within the next few weeks). We had reserved their large room which had a fancy chandelier and fireplace, invited three hostesses mostly to keep Sally and Mia company and talked business and other stuff. Of course from time to time one or more guys or gals would sing, and in the course of the evening we put away several bottles of Johnny Walker Blue.

Per tradition Mark was hosting the room salon, as he was the senior person introducing us. And this was the customary social way for me to get acquainted with Tom. I'm glad I don't have too many friends who subscribe to this custom.

Eventually Tom and Mark invited all the other available hostesses in, after other customers had left, and at some point there were over a dozen gals in the room. I suppose Mark had to tip them all.

Since the clubs close at 2 AM in Los Angeles, about a dozen of us moved over to a host bar, which is a place where the staff are all good looking Asian men instead of women. These places usually open around 2 AM since their main clientele are the hostesses coming off work at 2 AM. (It's an interesting flow of cash from businessmen that are older men, to hostesses who are young women, to hosts who are young men.) Presumably they are all unlicensed and illegal since the city mandates a last call for alcohol before 2 AM. But we had fun there until past 5 AM.

The next day we went to Aroma Resort for a sauna, hot and cold plunge pools, and very competent massages. Mine was from an older lady who was a China-born Korean. A lot of the conversation revolved around the Virginia Tech massacre.

And after that we repaired to the hotel for a farewell round. And the hosting was over.

Summary of the night?

1. Companionship: $7000
2. Transportation:  $6000
3. Dinner: $2000
4. Host bar: $3000
5. Business contact: Priceless.

(Hey, at least I can collect American Express points for these jaunts. I think I have six million of them. Too bad there is rarely anything worthwhile to spend them on.)

What about Jenny? I call or message to her regularly throughout the evening. While there are other women, I talk to her or leave a voicemail usually hourly, and at least every two hours. That is our protocol. More about this protocol and its history will become clear as I blog more about my temptations. So while at the room salon I called her hourly, which led to no small amount of ribbing from Mark and Tom about my tight leash. But I could tell they were jealous!

Mark is planning on buying a home in California, after which I will no longer be responsible for hosting him. He was very grateful for the gesture, as he always is, and his ability to influence deals for me continues to be important. It is possible I spend $100k of expenses on Mark per year (although it may be only half that much), but that is still less than 0.1% of the deal value he brings.

Sometimes I reflect on how oddly and irrationally parts of the business world work — we are embedded in a large economic machine of rules and capitalist rationales, and yet human behavior remains the fulcrum of so much leverage. Any investment analysis that discounts the individuals' returns from their human needs, wants, and desires seems intrinsically bankrupt. Rational actors and economic returns are, to a degree, a convenient fiction. It makes me wonder: over time, will the relentless progress of the economic machinery win, and will it thereby force rationality and metric-driven economics? Or will the human factor eternally perpetuate inefficiencies, corruption — remaining the business world's inconvenient truth — but also leading to individual rewards and joy?

Who knows. I was just the West Coast Host.

Ankles and Cosmetic Surgery

Here's a short observation.

In a world full of cosmetic surgery, I now believe the most indicative part of a woman's body is her ankles.

A shapely ankle to date has been an accurate indicator of my preferred body type and also happens to be relatively difficult to surgically alter. This is followed closely by the bone structure of the feet and hands, in conjunction with toes and fingers.

The telling indicator used to be the midriff, but the number of technological approaches to solve the midriff problem are now legion, and it is difficult to approach sufficiently closely (or to remove the prerequisite clothing) to see the scars. The graceful curve of the neck line also fell prey to advances in surgical techniques and the rise of relevant capital spending.

Likewise calves used to be a good indicator, but, alas, even that has been conquered through the surgical severing of certain leg nerves which cause the atrophy of chunky calves.

Presumably alteration of bone structure is in the near future, with some combination of chemical or electrical stimulation or attenuation of bone growth. Or perhaps a microsurgical technique that will just go in there and hack up those bones.

I find myself often divided about cosmetic surgery.  The research indicates that it has psychological benefits, but perhaps we are trading an individual's benefit  in psychological health at the expense of a society's expense in sociological health. Of course this happens all the time and is always the right economic bet. But that doesn't make it comforting to me. Jenny comes from a culture that has embraced cosmetic surgery of all kinds, yet has not done any herself, and in fact generally eschews cosmetics. Passing the age of 30, however, gives rise to her subtly setting my expectations that there may be some cosmetic techniques particularly in the area of skin treatments and wrinkle removal that are in her future.

My perspective is that such treatments, if used judiciously and with the appropriate skepticism, are really more for her well-being than for mine or that of our relationship. But in a blog about the challenges of monogamy I should not discount the contribution of her maintaining her appearance to maintaining my interest.

Remembering Tokyo

Back in November 2004 I did a risky thing with a courtesan I call Sanura: we playacted our way through a series of business meetings. In retrospect the entire notion seems insane, but at the time it was a lot of fun. The nadir of the experience was mind fucking Bob and Doug, two associates of a finance demigod I called The Man.

Wouldn't you know it, later on I end up partnering with The Man on a set of projects, handing over virtually all my Asia business dealings. When I last wrote about this, there had been no repercussion from my little trick with his associates, but I knew he was curious.

In the last year The Man has raised Big Money for projects, and by Big Money I mean a number followed by enough zeros to overflow a calculator. Hey, he's The Man! In order to manage this expansion of capital The Man suggested we hire Doug to manage our Asia operations out of Hong Kong, and Bob to manage out of London. (Doug had been bored out of his investment bank position shortly after the first time I had met him.) I was very hesitant. I mean, I really fucked with Bob and Doug, and the questions they might have might be, um, embarrassing. The Man suggested other country heads as well, but those names don't hold this special attention for me. He also strongly recommended I make an offer to Doug as soon as possible, before he took one of many offers from hedge funds.

I've profiled Doug before, there's no doubt he has qualifications. He also went through a kind of karmic remorse that I have commonly found in successful investment bankers who don't go on to run investment banks, and fund managers: they harbor a semi-secret dream to go do something useful and real and cash constrained, like a startup, almost as if they feel guilty about the zillions of dollars they have made from clients for adding little or no real value. I tell you, when they get deep into drink, you'll hear a lot of this from these big shot deal guys, lamenting their true socio-economic contribution while they jealously eye the struggling entrepreneur -- of course from their position of considerable liquidity! Of course they rarely actually take the cut in compensation to do a startup, and when they do, they rarely succeed. Doug went this route for a short time and had small successes but was hunting for some big game that was NOT a rehash of the work he had already mastered. He seemed very interested and motivated in partnering with The Man again. And hiring qualified and motivated people is always a key to success.

So I guess I had to meet Bob and Doug again, two and a half years later, and again in Tokyo.

So here is the scene:

I have been in Tokyo with Jenny for several days. We have a favorite sushi chef we always visit atop the Tokyo Opera City Tower. We have a favorite park where we like to run around on the play structures, to the amusement of children and their guardians alike. We have a favorite karaoke place where private rooms range in eclectic style from a dancing pole and bunk beds, to a twelve person hot tub. The world's largest city has a never-ending diversity of clubs, restaurants, and other venues, and the fetishist culture offers so much to see, if not experience. Service is almost always superb in that Japanese way, and luxury is uniquely both common and unobtrusive. I'm not sure I fully grok Tokyo, but I enjoy it.

The setting has moved from the Grand Hyatt and Park Hyatt to the Mandarin Oriental.

Allow me a short note on this hotel: I only like half the hotels in the Mandarin Oriental group, although none of them are terrible. While the concierges, bell and wait staff at the Tokyo Mandarin Oriental were excellent, I have to say the food, suites and spa didn't measure up to the Park Hyatt in Tokyo, or, say, the Mandarin Oriental's own Landmark or renovated eponymous hotel in Hong Kong.

Back to the story: I should mention that at the point of this meeting Bob and Doug are both already hired. They went through an extensive interview process at our home office. Bob has been working as the head of operations in Asia for several months already and is preparing for a London office. Doug is scheduled to start up in the summer, after he dispenses with a few personal issues involving women who he does not intend to bring with him to Hong Kong. So I am not really interviewing them, per se, I am welcoming them.

I am meeting Bob and Doug over a late dinner at Sense, the Chinese restaurant at the Mandarin Oriental. Tomorrow they will conduct me to a meeting with the president of one of Japan's largest securities companies. After that Jenny and I will part ways; she will be taking care of some of her business while I will head to China to take care of some of mine. We will meet back up about a week later for a trip to South America.

Earlier today Jenny and I had three hours of treatment at the Spa at the Mandarin Oriental in their couple’s suite. The treatments were excellent, with two lovely and well-trained therapists, but the couple’s suite was disappointing when compared to the Landmark in Hong Kong. The suite at the Landmark was designed for fooling around, and the spa gave you ample time -- and even a bed, sauna, jetted pool, and chaise -- in which to do so. The equivalent suite at the Mandarin Oriental was always chaperoned.Yes, there can be too much good service.

We made up for this; the time after the spa appointment and before my dinner was occupied with a two hour, mind-blowing lovemaking session in the suite. Synchronization and body and breath control really work together to great effect. I have experienced tantric providers the world over, and although good experiences they were almost always short of fantastic. But the craft Jenny and I have developed under the guidance of her tutor, well, that had been really elevating things to a new level.

Needless to say, between the two sessions, I was relaxed.

A fifteen-minute nap and a shower later, Jenny is ordering room service while I have greeted Bob and Doug at Sense. We are seated on two sides of a table that abuts the 37th floor view. Doug is seated at one end, and then myself and Bob. So I am flanked.

Dinner conversation starts out slow, like a rusty wheel bearing. A spot of alcohol serves as social lubricant. As the tasting menu progresses we predictably warm up. We share status and plans, ideas and visions. But from time to time there are these odd, pregnant pauses. There is clearly something on their minds.

At a point after a few bottles of wine have been consumed, Doug breaks one of these pregnant pauses with, "Sig, you have to tell me," and while eyeing Bob continues, "who was that Sanura gal?"

It turns out that Bob, since joining the organization, has been discreetly trying to figure out where she fit. Although Sanura and I had created an email address for her at the home office as well as business cards, she did not appear on any organizational charts, nor did anybody seem to know of any female staff I had hired from George Soros.

They had asked The Man, who basically brushed them off saying it wasn’t important.

I chide them for their inability to execute this bit of diligence and ask them to share their theories. I pose it as a challenge. Doug hypothesizes she is a hidden protege. Bob thinks she is a contractor used for special projects. But I know they are thinking something else. I can tell. So I call bullshit. I tell them they have to justify their hypothesis and that those were unsupported. I berate them for poor thinking and question whether they were hiring errors.

My challenge cannot go unanswered. Their manhood called into question, they throw caution to the wind and reveal that their real theory is that I have a hidden fund of "at least $100 million," and that Sanura both manages the fund and is my secret mistress.

Privately I am fascinated that these very intelligent and worldly men cannot seem to even theorize that Sanura is not financially sophisticated at all, and that they would recognizer her as a junior peer, a sole fund manager. Was Sanura’s play acting so convincing? Or is there really no difference between play acting and being a truly capable financier? Maybe there is less difference between a former banker and a former provider. Food for thought.

I test this. They are utterly convinced that she had financial acumen, that she slept with me, and that I kept her hidden from my principal organization. Everything else is triangulated around those data points.

I am sorry, Sanura, if you are reading this because I know you loved maintaining this fiction, but I told them the truth. Part of me wishes you were there to see the reaction because it was beautiful to behold. Two men who probably have backslapped each other countless times for how they tricked others into lucrative financial instruments were themselves punk'd by a young, leggy, financially-naive provider.

They took it well. In fact at a follow up meeting Doug confessed that he would really like to meet Sanura again, professionally. I told him I had lost contact with her.

I know Bob and Doug now have a unique memory of Tokyo, the two days they were punk'd by Sigmund Fuller and an escort, and how it led to their investment of time and money in a multibillion dollar enterprise.

Now that's a provider that was worth the money!

Excuses and More Excuses

I have received dozens of emails berating me for failing to write about sex and monogamy. Here are my lame excuses.

1. It is a very complicated topic. I have many posts that I have started, but have not posted because I believe they fail to capture the real feel of the situations. There are many nuances in love and relationships that make their context more difficult to describe than simpler sex.

2. It is a very complicated topic, part II. Many of the insights I have been developing are really about sharing life, and not about love per se. The interplay between emotion, relationships, money, social interactions, and activities is again difficult to capture.

3. Privacy is challenging. This blog is a work of fiction. It is based on fact, but I change several aspects to enhance privacy. There is no real privacy in the world today, but this illusion is important. The complexities noted above often conspire to make it very difficult to capture the idea and yet maintain any level of anonymity because changing any given fact alters the balance and feel of the rest.

4. Lacking motivation. Receiving correspondance does increase my motivation, but writing is most often a way to manage a tension or issue. My life is remarkably lacking tensions right now. When I was seeking sex and relationships in my previous blog there was plenty of interesting tensions. I was intrincially dissatisfied despite my apparent material and social success and wealth, and clearly searching for something. While I am still a seeker, it is not dissatisfaction that motivates but rather protection of my existing happiness. It is somehow quite different.

The unfinished posts really do real with complex issues that are difficult to describe compactly, as well as being moving targets of my own opinion. The topics include my observations on:

1. Wealthy couples who are exceedingly unhappy;
2. Humanity's apparent inability to deal with surplus, especially in relationships;
3. Social responsibility in the context of responsibility to a committed relationship;
4. Worth, self-worth and the role of partnership;
5. Building versus Salvage, two different models of efforts in a relationship;
6. Death, Divorce, Depression and Disillusionment; and
7. Planning for Monogamy.

I referred to some of these topics as conversations I have been having with Jenny. Perhaps I need a ghost writer...

I'll be Home for Christmas

Last Christmas was a real doozy. The union of our various families has been a rocky process indeed.

Jenny and I were apart for over a week between Thanksgiving and Christmas while I hung out with a few billionaires trying to save the world. Needless to say, we didn't. After that, full of the optimism that drove me to try so many startups, I once again had planned a full slate of family holiday activities.

This time rather than flying hither and yon to butter up the families in every possible combination, I decided to bring the families together in a venue that enabled them to hang out with each other or to avoid each other, each according to their own desire. The trick was to find a place that offered enough space for the relatives and their emotional baggage. The eventual solution came down to an island or a cruise. The presence of a casino and 24x7 food on the cruise sealed the decision, although personally I would have preferred the island.

Easier to bury the bodies, you know.

Gradually the number of family members interested in the cruise increased until the attendee list stood at fifty people. When it came to relatives, nothing was too good for Sigmund Fuller's wallet. (Of course in reality all of the twenty-odd staterooms were arranged in late summer, but please continue to allow me some artistic license.)

Family members seemed to fall in to several categories:

The Gamblers spent most of their time in the casino, bleeding both money and embellished stories of the occasional success that fueled their irrational behavior.

The Children ran around like headless chickens until they ran out of energy, and which time they miraculously transformed into the wailing hellspawn of banshees... Keep in mind that not all members of The Children group were minors.

Then there were the Floaters, so called by me because I truly hoped for their sake that they could survive in sea water without the aid of floatation devices.

Of course one unifying principle, adopted over the last year by all the adults, was the Principle of Disdain, which was to look upon other families with Disdain, just on Principle. This caused no end of friction which in theory could have surfaced issues to discuss and resolve, but in fact only fed private rantings and the worst sort of clique behaviors.

Jenny and I went with the best of intentions, cheerful and optimistic and definitely consensus building and ready to work out issues.

After a few days the lifeboats were looking real good.

Perhaps I exaggerate. Really there was some improvement over last year. For example last years most common comment was along the lines of, "why on earth are you going to marry [him or her]". This year the favorite complaint was, "when will you set the date for God's sake?," rapidly followed by a muttered, "God, I hate [his or her] family." And I count that as significant progress toward accepting the inevitable.

Now if only they could get along with each other.

Bottom line? No deaths, no missing body parts, only minor injuries to pride.

Next year: a private island. Will it be Lost, or Gilligan's Island?

Turning on Jenny

Over a year ago I gave a speech in a foreign country at a national convention. I took Jenny to the convention where they were kind enough to give her a front row seat.

It was one of those talks where I hit it out the park and there was a standing ovation. Everybody was very pleased since I was considered a risky speaker, and audience members even lined up for my autograph.

When we got back to the hotel Jenny jumped me and screwed the living daylights out of me.

During a pause in the proceedings, Jenny confessed that she was surprised by how turned on she was by my speech. I chalked this up to one of many things I don't understand about women, but actually kind of do. Meaning that I can justify the behavior from an evolutionary and psychological perspective, and I certainly enjoy it!, but dont' really understand it. Maybe this is why some girls become groupies for rock stars or actors. It's obvious it isn't always because they are good looking -- the women are affiliating with popularity and power, not always physical characteristics.

And I've written before about some of this effect, but it is interesting to see it in my monogamous mate. Jenny shows no deep affinity for male movie stars, sports stars or the like, but seems to have displaced all of this on me.

I'm not complaining.

But let's review some of what appears to turn on Jenny, besides the ordinary suspects:

1. When I give a speech that sways the audience.
2. When I am with beautiful other women.
3. When I describe what I forcefully will do to her in an upcoming lovemaking scenario.
4. When I masturbate on the webcam.

Is there a common theme? Maybe I am overreaching, but I think it is about when I am in a position of power. Power over others. Power over her. Power over myself. These expressions of power make Jenny wet with desire. Really wet.

But even beyond that, these are scenarios which also reflect well on her power stemming from her ownership over my loyalty. My power over the audience, over her sexual submission, or my orgasms accrue to her power over the world as well.

I am not advocating the pure power viewpoint of human relationships, or going the route of Camille Paglia on the issue, but in much of pop psychology one does find truths.

How about the other way?

When I see similar competencies in Jenny, I am proud, but rarely sexually turned on. Her general power does not provoke a sexual reaction in me. In fact, I am more sexually turned on by the same aforementioned scenarios when she is there. In fact when she is not present, power does not do much of anything for me. But it is the reflection of my power in my lover that really gets me going.

I need that mirror.

I need Jenny.