That said, I love reading profiles. It's like rooting through someone's lingerie drawer with their tacit consent - and absence.
The one-line description: Gregarious misanthrope with a hippie rising. If that makes sense to you, we will probably get on just fine. That said, if you are of the tl;dr stripe, please direct yourself to tinder. It's for our mutual safety. G*d speed.
I live in the Republic of Parkdale. I ride my bike or walk everywhere. Even in winter. When I stray outside of the west end, it usually involves a plane. I'm that breed of jerk.
( last year: NYC/HFX/MTL. Vegas/Aspen/England/India/Nepal/ New York again, Reno, Black Rock City/ Penn/ Ohio. New York, again/ France/ Israel: Palestine/ Jordan/ Italy. (Holy heck, writing that down, it seems like a lot. In truth, it was. Busy year. In related news, I'm exhausted, and in HFX, Tampa, Indianapolis, Ottawa, already this year. I'm not beach people but i think sitting on my ass doing nothing but read and eat in hippie/naked/gay old Zipolite is probably in the cards for March. )
Within the more domestic realms, I suspect that there are dragons north of Bloor/west of Roncey/east of Spadinaish.
Many, many dragons.
Suspicious of the whole dating thing - circling it warily like a bare knuckle fighter in an ad hoc ring. Looking for a relationship and while (respectful) casual is always possible. I'm wary of accidentally falling into the wrong thing. (Sometimes you have a "casual" thing and three years later you're staring at each other trying to figure out how the hell you ended up in that moment, locking gazes, filled with regret.) See, red flags don't matter when you're casually banging; you disregard them because you think, "Hey, I'm turning off the road soon anyway, it's not a problem."
But then you fall in love with the road and you've got a problem.
(I was wondering how far i could get with that metaphor without it becoming laboured. Too late. If I had gone one inch farther, there'd be folks in orange reflective vests, asphalt trucks, and many cars idling in stifling heat.)
NB: to see who has actually read the profile - just throw the word "shibboleth" - in the message. And let's say, um, an 80+ percent match to chat.
That's no guarantee for compatibility/interest but it's a pretty good conversational bedrock . It ALWAYS goes poorly when i head south of that number.
Deleting messages from young guys. Hey, kids, get off my lawn. No, that's not a euphemism. Or it is? Whatever. Get off of that, too.
Also? I know yr mum. Run along.
TV producer/director/writer and occasional do-gooder. Trying to flip that around. I try to do no harm. I need to do better. I have done work with third sector groups (e.g.MSF ) in the past and am currently a part-time labour organizer /researcher- which is a lot like this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pk7yqlTMvp8
Was doing a doctorate in what turned out to be Basket Weaving for your Marxist Vagina, so now I'm a drop-out. I dropped out of high school so I guess I haven't changed much. That said, there were no Marxist vaginas in my high school. Or basket weaving. Not that I am aware of anyway. I dropped out of that school though, so what do I know? Maybe they were there, smoking by the shop class door.
PS: Despite what some people have thought of this last graph, this is not an indictment of the left. Nope. I'm a bike-riding pinko, to use a phrase from our former mayor/nemesis/municipal clown.
(I'm also great at forgetting to close parenthesis.
List available upon request.
Ayahuasca - or at least, the lessons it gives.
Some demanding physical activity.
Those (fleeting) moments of connection that make the scale of the universe seem manageable.
(i wasn't conflating these last two but you know. It happens sometimes.)
The *idea*of grace, if not the state.
You know, stuff.
*See Tucker's Law.
When I chose to update this (in Vegas) I had just finished interviewing a soldier with PTSD who likely killed his roommate but denied it, I held his sister in the hall as she flipped out and wept. Later, i ate string cheese while I worked on questions for the next day, and then I went out to stare at the glassy-eyed gamblers in the tattered 70s casino Circus Circus and wondered who among us had the greatest darkness in our souls.
Jks. I was at a bar, doing keg stands.
Which do you think sounds more plausible?
*If you love this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ij1pZvv9m0g
*You know that ghosting is both uncivilized and unnecessary. And you won't show up at 2 AM freaking out if i didn't respond to your emails in the time window you thought was appropriate. Could I just have something in the middle?
*BONUS ROUND: You are tall/athleticish. I tend to not be attracted to anyone who looks like they could be related to me by blood. Fair folk are lovely but I don't tend to fall for them. Tallish, dark and fetching. Not very original, I fear. This is the nonsense part of this, the gross consumerist part. The shopping. In truth, if i meet people in real life, my "type," is actually very elastic - it often takes the shape of the person I find really engaging. But in the absence of real world interactions, this crude stuff of meat and bone is more in play than usual. (How's that for a rationalized disclaimer; howyoulikemenow?)
BTW, if you dig Ayn Rand - we're done here. Seriously. I do love that she lived off the state in her dotage, however. That kills me. And I am adding Dbag Chopra to the list also.
The light in me, etc.