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29 M Cambridge, MA

My Details

Last Online
Today – 11:24am
5′ 7″ (1.70m)
Body Type
Mostly vegetarian
Working on Ph.D program
Relationship Status
Relationship Type
Mostly non-monogamous
English (Fluently)

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My self-summary
Oh, hello! I must not have heard you arrive. Welcome to my profile! Please, enter. Here, let me take your coat. You must be tired from visiting so many of these. Have a seat; make yourself at home. May I offer you a drink? A glass of champagne, perhaps?

I hope you like the what I’ve done with the place: I know that it’s impossible to write one of these without alienating someone—which is a shame, since there’s no reason to expect how I market myself on the Internet to reflect what it would be like to spend time with me. But why am I telling you this? You have the same problem.

Chances are, you’re looking for someone smart and funny. As luck would have it, I’m smart and funny. What’s that? Not quite convinced? That’s all right: a certain amount of skepticism is healthy. I have the rest of the page to win you over.

Tastes being what they are, you’re probably also looking for someone quirky. Now, let me be clear that I don’t think of myself as quirky: I have no commitment to quirkiness, nor am I active in the quirk community. Nevertheless, you may end up considering me quirky. Others have.

In general, I try to avoid identities: I just get exhausted from all that performing.

For the sake of full disclosure, I should mention that I also possess negative qualities. I’d provide you with a list, but that would be self-defeating. See how honest I am?

Even if I’m not what you signed up to find, you may nevertheless find yourself glad to have found me!
What I’m doing with my life
That’s rather personal, don’t you think? What my life and I do in the privacy of our home is between the two of us, and no one else has any right . . . (see Lawrence v. Texas)

The “Education” line in the My Details box to the right will give you the short version. I can give you the long version once we get to know each other a little better: I need to maintain an air of mystery, after all.

Also, looking forward to retirement.
I’m really good at
not very much, if you ask me.

Other people will tell you that I’m really good at a large number of cognitive processes, but you should probably ask them.

You weren’t expecting that last bit in this section, now were you?
The first things people usually notice about me
depend on the person and the context. But you know that. So instead I’ll tell you about a couple of things that get noticed not infrequently:

I have pretty eyes. “They’re like the ocean,” some say, “big, blue, and easy to get lost in.”¹ Don’t worry, though: search and rescue teams are standing by.² Others have called them “breath taking”—after regaining their breath, that is. Still others have found them “arresting,” a few going so far as to invoke their right to counsel.

My unusually long and thick . . . eyelashes are also noticeable. Despite rumors to the contrary, I assure you that they’re real, and they’re spectacular.

But my best features are my stomach, chest, legs, and butt.

¹ For those of you slavishly devoted to nineteenth-century prescriptivist grammar, this sentence does not end with a preposition: it ends with a trace.

² No, neither does this one: it ends with a particle.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Just these? Why? What about my favorite color? Sport? Racehorse? Car? Ship? Airplane? Space shuttle? Shop? Brand? Fashion designer? Painter? Sculptor? Collagist? Performance artist? Critical theorist? Wave of feminism? Branch of philosophy? Philosophical movement? Social movement? Social science? “Hard” science? Subatomic particle? Geometric shape? Trigonometric function? Saint? Deity?

Anyway, I never learned how to play favorites.
Except for these, of course:



I added the following on 1/28/2014:
I’m not sure what exactly this says about my character, but I cried my eyes out while watching last night’s episode of How I Met Your Mother—in case you’re too lazy to click on the link or you’re reading this on a mobile device, it was season 9, episode 16 (200 overall) “How Your Mother Met Me,” the one in which the mother’s story, from the night in September 2005 in which Ted and Robin meet to the weekend of Robin and Barney’s wedding, is told—and for some time afterward as well. And again whenever I think about the episode. Maybe this should go in the most private thing I’m willing to admit section?

And on 4/1/2014:
Ditto regarding the finale. It’s like Kevin and Winnie all over again!
I spend a lot of time thinking about
other people’s cats, my dissertation, and the minutiae of everyday life. But I wouldn’t want to tell you about that—it would betray a lack of imagination—nor would you want to hear about it. Instead, here are some OkCupid-inspired topics about which I spend almost no time thinking, but which at least demonstrate a modicum of creativity:

What’s protocol when you stumble upon the OkCupid profile of a real-life acquaintance? Is there anything in the writings of Emily Post that could serve as precedent? If not, who decides? Can I appeal? Who hears the appeal? Can a bill overturn the ruling? Who passes such a bill? Signs it into law? Veto power? Where’s Schoolhouse Rock! when you need it?

A good number of women write that they’re looking for someone who doesn’t take himself¹ too seriously. How would this manifest itself in the self-summary? Would such people not take the summary seriously, or would they give a serious summary of a self not taken seriously? Or, would they take neither the self nor the summary seriously? Is lack of seriousness transitive? Associative? Commutative?

Anyway, how can anyone take oneself seriously now that everyone knows that no one is or has a centered, stable, rational, autonomous, subjective, Cartesian self? For that matter, how can anyone provide a self-summary?

Does anything in my profile warrant a trigger warning?

Also, why isn’t there a “deadpan” emoticon? (xϘx)

¹ Or herself, or hirself, etc., though my impression is that most women who give this criterion identify as straight. A more thorough investigation is a desideratum, but, at present, I lack the resources to conduct it. Hmm . . . do I smell an NSF grant?
On a typical Friday night I am
that I am?

This is obviously dated—quite literally, in fact—but, again, I’m sticking with it because I rather like it. I hope you do too.

Even a casual perusal of other profiles reveals that there is a heated debate going on as to whether there even is such a thing as a typical Friday night! I do not wish to take sides on this divisive issue. What I will say is that even if there is, in fact, such a thing as a typical Friday night, it would be uninteresting. Who wants to hear about something typical?

Instead, I’ll tell you that I spent this past Friday night (10/5/2012) getting to know my new neighbor, a first-year law student. She was catching up on the chores and errands that she had put off during the previous week, which had been particularly difficult. I spent the evening talking to her and helping out. It was both lovely and atypical.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I have no idea how to assign degrees of privacy: as far as I know, that very fact may be the most private thing I’m willing to admit. Maybe it’s a Jewish thing. That is the stereotype, right? That we tell everyone everything?¹ Anyway, here are a few things that seem like they might be private:

I myself prefer to use the serial comma, but I don’t understand the level of fanaticism that this one little punctuation mark seems to have engendered.

I like to cuddle. I’m a bit horrified that this is the most appropriate section in the profile for such an “admission.”

I’m wary of women who choose “long-term dating,” but not “short-term dating.” If I go out with you once, have I entered into a three-year contract? Are there penalty fees if we break up earlier?

And while we’re on the subject, I’m similarly confused about the borderline between “short-term dating” and “casual sex.” Isn’t everyone supposed to start out all aloof these days, “jus’ keepin’ it casual” and whatnot? “Yeah, you know, I’m gonna be kinda busy these next few weeks, but I’ll call you . . . sometime . . . maybe. . . . Or, you know, you could call me. Whatever. It’s not like anyone’s keepin’ score.” Yeah right. [Hark! The sound of an iPhone ringing. A man in his late twenties is momentarily startled, then frantically searches his pockets for the phone, pausing once he’s gotten ahold of it so as to let it ring a couple of extra times so as not to seem overeager, taking advantage of the “extra” time to breathe deeply once or twice in an attempt to regain his composure.] “Hey! I was just on my way. Are you there alre . . . ? No, don’t worry about me; I understand completely. She’s your second cousin once removed’s neighbor’s dog. What else are you going to do? Not take her to to the doggy ER, even though she explicitly complained about a tummy ache to your dog-whispering roommate during the latter’s ayahuasca-induced vision quest. Don’t be silly! Even though we planned this two weeks ago, I’ve still gone ahead and made dozens of back-up plans. After all, we jus’ keepin’ it casual, am I right? Why, I’d have to beat the ladies off with with a stick were it not for my complete and utter disgust at the thought of domestic violence, which translates into a categorical refusal to beat ladies off with sticks unless we’ve agreed on a safeword beforehand. Anyway, maybe next week. Oh, you’re gonna be kinda busy next week? Well, so am I, actually, but I’ll try to remember to call you . . . sometime . . . maybe. . . . Or, you know, you could call me. Whatever. It’s not like anyone’s keepin’ score.” Yeah right. [Click!] So I checked the box marked “casual sex.” Does that mean that, if we go out and hit it off, I’ll want to have sex with you? Pretty much. Won’t you? That night? Sure. Why not? That I won’t want to see you again? Far from it! I don’t understand that mentality at all. And I’m guessing that I don’t really want to understand it, because I already feel icky just knowing that there are people out there who feel that way. If you have a sex-positive attitude, you want me, and you’re neither afraid to express your desires nor take what you want more generally, then my respect for you only increases.

Sometimes, when I write a sentence that could upset or offend, I put a winky face after it to indicate that I don’t mean it—but I really do mean it. ;)

For a while there, I thought that “transfat” was an adjective used of persons who were assigned thin at birth, but who always felt fat and either had made or were in the process of making their bodies conform to their deeply felt fat identity. ;)

The present profile is my second on this site. The first received a great deal of critical acclaim; one reviewer even hailed it as a “postmodern masterpiece.” I’m going for a different aesthetic with this one—less hysterical realism, more mumblecore—and I’m worried about the sophomore slump.

I’m also concerned that this one may be just a little too accessible. Have I sold out?

¹ I learned this from something Six says in a very special episode of Blossom.
I’m looking for
  • Girls who like guys
  • Ages 18–40
  • Near me
  • For long-term dating, short-term dating, casual sex
You should message me if
Socrates is mortal.
As it happens, Socrates is mortal.
You should message me.

_________________ALTERNATE ENDING_________________

Just do it! What are you, chicken? ;)