Monday, 6 February 2017

Surv... eh?

Sensible programming choice, there.
It's midday on a Monday morning and I'm filling in a medical survey run by UCL. Something to do with my mother. I don't know what the results are going to be and, probably because I closed the wrong tab on my browser, I still don't. It involves pictures of salamanders and is asking me questions about me. The best sort of questions, basically.

Do you ever drink coffee? it asks, to which I answer "yes" while taking a sip of coffee.
Do you ever smoke? it asks, to which I tick "no" while regretting that it doesn't have an extra box for me to explain in hundreds of words exactly what I have against smoking.
Do you ever drink alcohol? it asks, to which I tick "no" while wondering why there isn't a "yes yes, oh dear God yes" for my sister to tick. She's taking the survey too.

Do you ever remember your dreams vividly? it asks.

Why, yes, survey, yes I do.

In fact, some more vividly than others. Just last night I dreamed about spending the night in a supermarket and ending up making my way out of it when the morning shift came in, which would be unremarkable were it not for the fact that everyone had the most attractive arses I've ever seen. Everyone. I'm not even an arse man myself, so why I was even looking I'm not sure. I even woke up to find my girlfriend watching Supermarket Sweep.

The night before that I had a dream about going to Eroticon and everyone starting the event by being naked (as an ILB, I wasn't, of course; I was wearing a dressing gown. Nothing underneath it, though.). The sessions were about to start, necessitating my shout:

"Okay, anyone who's still naked, please put some clothes on - we're starting the sessions!"

It seemed to make sense at the time.

And the night before that, I dreamed about going back to Center Parcs. I've had pool-related shenanigans before, of course - plenty of them - not least of all the ones in Center Parcs. At this one, however, was the facility to take Turkish baths, and not only that, but Jet from Gladiators was offering fifty-minute massages, free to anyone staying in the centre - something I was keen to experience, although my favourite Gladiator was always Lightning. I was leaving the following day, but the rest of the dream involved me trying to book one of said massages before ten o'clock in the morning.

Why that time, I'm not sure. I don't think it needs to make any sense.

Of course, there isn't a space to enter any of this in on the survey itself. I'm not even sure that they want to know about my supermarket-derrière-conference-nudity-gladiator-massage dreams in that much detail. They also probably don't want to know about the hour and a half this morning I spent lying in bed with a huge, throbbing erection and trying to conceal it by not getting out of bed.

So I tick "yes" and continue on with the survey, coffee in hand, a few ideas forming in my mind.

One - I need to go to the supermarket.
Two - I should stop worrying about the size of my own arse.
Three - I'm sure Eroticon won't involve that much nudity.
Four - Dear God, I need a holiday.
Five - I would really like a massage.

In the last three months, have you been able to sustain a male erection strong enough for comfortable intercourse or masturbation for a reasonable period of time?

I tick "yes" so hard that I think I may have broken my mouse.

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