Some government-mandated disclaimers follow.
TO RICH DEBUTANTES AND HEIRESSES:
I'm sorry, but I simply can't keep getting romantically entangled with your type. I'm too old to keep jumping out of high windows onto horses' backs to escape the wrath of your angry fathers and the guards or the servants they send after me at 4am as I disappear into the distance with only 3 stitches of clothing on.
TO EVERYONE ELSE:
I am looking to monogamously date the living hell out of somebody clever and fun with amazing style.
Or some kind of style, really. Who the hell am I to judge your style? An opinionated jerk, that's who.
I love working and playing gigs in Seattle, but I rent a house in Kent where there's no traffic and I can PLAY THE DRUMS and no one calls the cops. Life's good.
I know I'm not for everybody. I'm short. I don't own a boat, or any abs.
I DO have a hairy chest. I am a smart-aleck. I challenge people because I know I need to be challenged by others. Usually, this works.
I show affection primarily with physical touch and with complicated run-on sentences about you after I find out how super cool you are. Please be into receiving that a whole bunch.
I think the pinnacle of manliness happened in a detective novel in the late 1940's, not in a movie with computer-generated explosions.
I think people who say, "That which does not kill you makes you stronger," are people who just want you dead.