At that point I had realized that it was true that I had in a very subtle manner bragged by answering yes to that fatal question.   Next I had to answer two questions, was this something that could bother me mentally and if so was it alone or did it have a whole host of other counterparts affecting everything that I did on such a basal and infantile manner.  The first question was easy, obviously, if I had thought about this one fact so much it did bother me.  The next question was much more difficult.  Had I known that the path that it led me down would be such a deconstructive nightmare I would never have taken this road less traveled (for it truly has made all the difference).  But, innocently enough, I wanted to know, was this a lone obstruction to my happiness or was it only the corner that broke the surface. 
Do I often brag in this manner?  If so, why do I do such a thing?  Could it be caused by some other evil lurking in me that had as of yet not surfaced?  I pondered these thoughts for quite a while.  My results yeilded many answers, yet none of them were certain.  They all seemed to be unproven, but at the same time my instincts told me that they were probable.  I came to the conclusion that the main reason that I did all of this bragging was because of a more taboo thought, sex.  Should I have felt embarased because sex was what I discerned to be the factor ruling my life?   If so, where did I get such distructive thoughts, was it socitety in general that taught me that sex was bad and that if it was running my life my life was desitned for ruin.  Leaving such questions answerless, I moved on, and wondered, was it sexual impulses that were truly running my life?  Did I do all of my sly bragging to better my position in the eyes of women?  If that was so, couldn't it be said that all other things I do, get a good job, buy a nice car, get a hair cut monthly, and gain knowledge of any sort, were all to promote myself to women for the basal need of sex?  At that moment, although now I tend to distrust my self, it al seemed clear that the answer was a definite yes.  It was obvious that all that I was and all that I did was simply a personal notion of what I needed to do to fufill my desires.  I felt very low at that point, like I was this innocent person just realizing all the evil that he was doing.  Then, although this might be another manifestionation of my concieted ways, I thought that maybe every one else was like this, and that it was only I that realized it.
My thoughts became jumbled and I truly questioned each one of them.  What had made me think each one of these thoughts?  Or even more scary and terrible a thought, how was it that I could sit there and question these thought of mine that were so vital and so significant and in essence made who I was?   Was it possible that I was no more than a basal desire that could create such a being that up until this point had never really questioned why he did things?  If all this was so then, my God, all my existance could be explained by it.  It was obvious to me then that I was fooling myself all along, it had to be so, fooling myself into thinking that anything that I thought or did was spontaneous or of my own creation.  No, my eyes were opening to see that if anything, my mind was more like a processing center, carefully picking out the environmental stimuli from my surroundings and choosing which ones to remember.  And from all of these memories I should be able to, through careful recolection, point out to myself why I did each thing. 
Although I found this not to be the case entirely, or couldn't prove it conclucively to myself in some areas, a large amount of my common "games" could be traced back to certain memories.  Why did I have such an obsessive attitude when it came to privacy?  Because of one distinct summer in high school when I was esentially forced to be alone for three months.  It was funny that I hadn't realized that one before, now that I recalled it, it was obvious that that had been one of the most influential points of my life.  That really wasn't the point, the point was that my life was filled with these simple cause and effect situations that just took a little patience to uncover.  Why did I develop this love of wine?   Once, when I was in college, one of my friends roommates, a very beautiful girl I had lusted over for some time, had her boyfriend over.  I remember vivdly that he had brought over a bottle of wine, but most of all I remember the look that said, "Wow, you drink wine" that was plastered on her face.  After that I was a wine drinker. 
So all these games that I played and all these thoughts that were brought about for hidden reasons, they began to plague me.