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34 • Fort Lauderdale, FL • Man
I’m looking for
- Ages 24–38
- Near me
- Who are single
- For long-term dating
- Last online
- Feb 2
- 6′ 0″ (1.83m)
- Body Type
- Christianity, but not too serious about it
- Gemini, and it’s fun to think about
- Graduated from university
- Entertainment / Media
- Strictly monogamous
- Doesn’t have kids, but wants them
- Likes dogs and likes cats
Movies - Slap Shot, Back to the Future, The Goonies, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Shawshank Redemption
Shows - Breaking Bad, The League, The Daily Show, 60 Minutes, Hockey Night in Canada
Music - Neil Young, The Rolling Stones, Good Riddance, Strung Out, A Wilhelm Scream
Food - I'll eat pretty much anything but chicken foot soup. I'm not a huge fan of foot-based soups.
Ever tried getting phone calls returned on a Friday afternoon? You’re better off trying to squeeze orange juice from a pomegranate.
When we were living in Salt Lake City, my ex-wife and I enjoyed going to a little discount movie theater a few blocks from our apartment. The seats were uncomfortable, and it didn't offer the high-tech presentation of the big theaters, but it only cost us about $1.50 to see movies that had been released a couple months earlier, so we visited often.
The theater had been around for decades and had a warm, old-school feel. It still had old balcony seating, and the walls featured large photos of classic movie stars like Marilyn Monroe, James Dean and Humphrey Bogart.
One night, as we were settling into our seats my wife had a puzzled look come over her face. She's always hearing things or detecting strange aromas, so I ignored it. Besides, I'd just purchased some Twizzlers, and nothing comes between me and a fresh bag of Twizzlers.
Finally, she asked, "Why do they have a picture of Hitler on the wall?" I glanced over, fully expecting to see a 20-foot photograph of Hitler adorning the wall, and burst out laughing. "That's not Hitler, dear. That's Charlie Chaplin."
As a kid growing up in Northern Alberta, Canada, I would spend long winters cooped up in the house. I enjoyed playing outside, but frostbite is no joke. One glance at a black toe or a gnarled ear was all I needed to respect the elements. Also, my curfew usually correlated with the sunlight. In the summer, when sunlight would linger until midnight, we'd be out playing street hockey for hours. However in the winter, when the sun set by 4:30 in the afternoon, we spent a lot more time indoors.
I developed a habit for playing with tennis balls in the house, tossing the ball against the base of the fireplace and trying to dive across to the other side of the room for a remarkable save. Sometimes my throws would miss the mark, and I must have broken the glass out of each picture my parents had lined up across the mantle. Finally, one day my mom brought home a book teaching me how to juggle. That way I could still play with tennis balls or bean bags, but without the same destructive side effects.
I would spend hours practicing, but I never got the hang of it. I could get two bean bags going just fine, but once that third one was tossed into the mix I lost it. Despite my best efforts, I never did learn to juggle. It used to frustrate me, but if it prevented me from pursuing a career in magic or the performing arts I'm probably better off.
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