Sure does, all the way to the grave.
These are the night thoughts that compel an aging attention jockey, as the Enemy in the Mirror reveals the accelerating decay of the physique that has been your ticket to anything you wanted. They compel you to post soft-porn selfies - to total strangers - on a pot site.
You are gleaning diminishing amounts of adulation and affirmation from the same men who were such ridiculously easy targets 25 years ago. Compare and contrast with the people who chose instead to develop their minds and hearts, both appreciating assets. Your 3am insomnia sessions must be a slowly-constricting Hell of the hard facts penetrating your perimeter, which is made of borderline shrieking about how calm and unjudgmental you are. You can run from your deal with the Devil, but you cannot hide.