Singing "You've Lost that Loving Feeling" only works in the movies, and then only if you're a fictional fighter pilot. So here I am online trying this instead. It is hard to figure out what to write here. On the one hand, it's my one chance to make a good impression on you. But on other, I need to make sure I stay true to who I am. So I will not be telling you how I am a kick boxer by trade, but write poetry in my spare time. I think a lot of people are not truthful on here. So here goes:
My name is Mike. If you have a common name like Mike, then you know how I felt during grade school with always having to be referred to as Mike M. I swear every single class had at least 4 Mike's in it. I now let people call me Michael. Only my nieces and nephews can call me Mikey.
I am an electrical engineer in the aerospace industry. I like what I do. When I was a kid, I always liked taking things apart to see how they worked. My constant desire to learn how things work definitely led me to the career I am in now. I understand most people associate engineers with nerds. I would say that is only partially true. The way I see it, if I get to work all day and be nerdy, then I get it all out of my system and am less nerdy outside of work! That's good news for you.
I am an avid runner. A couple years ago I went on a 5K kick and ran one nearly every weekend. I've graduated to half marathons and marathons (I've done two full marathons so far). I pretty much love anything outdoors. I enjoy biking to work in the summer, heading up to the lake to go fishing, and going camping. I like watching movies, the occasional video game (alright more than occasional), working on things around my house, and trying to cook. I have never been much of a cook. I try but my food never turns out that good. I do not subject my friends to my cooking. It's always just for myself. One bad adventure in cooking means I will be eating it for lunch everyday that week. I try though. Someday I hope to perfect the art of cooking lasagna!
I think I have done pretty well for myself. I have a great job that I like, I own my own home, and I am happy. The one thing that is missing is that special lady. I am not saying I am looking for something serious right away. I am all for getting to know someone through the art of dating. I have found you can't force relationships. The best you can do is get to know someone and find out if there is anything there. If there is, that is great! If not, well that's not the end of the world and maybe I gained a great friend though it all.
My perfect lady would be someone who is fun, caring, ambitious, and does not own a pink phone with rhinestones on it. Kidding about the phone! Seriously though, why do girls put rhinestones on them? Isn't the pink flashy enough? Back to my perfect lady. She's someone who will go out for a good beer, will be willing to go to a Twins game at least once a year for me, isn't mean, has goals, can make me laugh, lets me make her laugh, does not try to make me into something I am not, and just loves life. I know, that's quite the list. If you're not all of those things, don't worry. I think sometimes the girl/guy of your dreams ends up being nothing like what you thought they would be like. Sometimes you can meet someone that puts butterflies in your stomach and you have no idea why. I think love is strange and can hit you at anytime from anywhere.
Well, I think I have written enough for now. If you are interested, please send me an message. If not, best of luck in your search.
That is more than 6. I guess that makes me a needy person.
and watch a movie on my couch after a long day at work. Other times I go out somewhere with my friends. I do like to explore the city. I have lived here for many years but only the last couple years I have been getting out and about. I like to try new bars and new things. Long answer but basically on a Friday I am either home, out at a bar with friends, watching some sporting event, or doing something completely random.
I liked a girl who worked at a fried chicken restaurant. I popped in with plans of asking her out. With some subtle maneuvering and a bit of conniving, I got her sitting at my table. We talked. The conversation flowed like a Mozart concerto. She had a sparkle in her eye. I had this girl stuck in my tractor beam. The poor thing had no chance of escape.
It was time for me to leave so she could finish the end of her
shift. She stood up. I stood up. I followed her down the aisle.
Then, a bizarre cataclysmic anomaly of physics manifested and
arrested fate. I still don't understand this phenomenon. I doubt Carl Sagan could explain it. Anyway, I punched the girl. Hard. Imagine something on the order of a prime Mike Tyson after his opponent mocked his speech impediment. Now multiply that punch by the speed of light. That's how hard I decked this poor girl.
Here's how it happened. Like I wrote, I was following her. She
stopped to get my food tray. I raised my hand to execute a patented shoulder embrace, a soft gesture meant to say, don't worry; I'll get it; you just keep moving your fine self along your original trajectory and let ole Mikey take care of that tray. A subtle touch here and there is the difference between “just friends” and more. One can use the touch to either set the mood, or assess conditions and plan accordingly. Then again, what do I know about romance? I punched a girl out while trying to seduce her.
Anyway, she stopped abruptly. The calculations for my
shoulder-caressing gesture, therefore, were off by several inches. Instead of my open hand meeting ever-so-delicately with her shoulder, the punching side of my hand whacked the living crap out of her scapula. It was a haymaker. The impulse force was immense. It was one of those hits were all the kinetic energy transfers from the striker to the object. Baseball players and golfers call it the “sweet spot.” I literally couldn't have hit this girl any harder if I'd tried. The whole restaurant heard the punch as it reverberated off the walls and from plates of friend chicken and rolls. The next day, the local newspaper featured a story about an anomalous reading on a seismograph outside of St. Cloud.
She was in pain for like, 10 minutes. She was rubbing her shoulder and wincing. I stood there, speechless and sniveling, at the zenith of my douchebaggery. She realized it was accidental. But that didn't make it any less painful. Do you know how hard it is to recover a romantic interlude after you punch the girl out? Let me assure you that it's almost impossible. I apologized about 56 times and bid the poor thing goodnight. I never disclosed my intent that evening to her.
Message me if you are serious about this and want to see what's possible between two people.