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31 San Francisco, CA Woman


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I’m looking for

  • Everyone
  • Ages 30–39
  • Near me
  • For new friends

My details

Last online
Yesterday – 9:28am
Bisexual, Heteroflexible, Queer, Questioning
5' 4" (1.63m)
Body Type
Space camp
Doesn’t want kids
English (Fluently), Spanish (Somewhat)
My self-summary
Write a little about yourself. Just a paragraph will do.
And stormy Tragedy appeared with giant strides:
forehead wild with hair, robe trailing the ground:
her left hand waving a royal sceptre about,
high-soled Lydian boots fastened to her feet.
And she spoke first, saying: ‘O sluggish poet,
will you ever stop taking love as your subject?

- - -

There was once a butterfly who wished for a bride, and, as may be supposed, he wanted to choose a very pretty one from among the flowers. He glanced, with a very critical eye, at all the flower-beds, and found that the flowers were seated quietly and demurely on their stalks, just as maidens should sit before they are engaged; but there was a great number of them, and it appeared as if his search would become very wearisome.

The butterfly did not like to take too much trouble, so he flew off on a visit to the daisies. The French call this flower "Marguerite," and they say that the little daisy can prophesy. Lovers pluck off the leaves, and as they pluck each leaf, they ask a question about their lovers; thus: “Does he or she love me?—Ardently? Distractedly? Very much? A little? Not at all?” and so on. Every one speaks these words in his own language. The butterfly came also to Marguerite to inquire, but he did not pluck off her leaves; he pressed a kiss on each of them, for he thought there was always more to be done by kindness.

“Darling Marguerite daisy,” he said to her, “you are the wisest woman of all the flowers. Pray tell me which of the flowers I shall choose for my wife. Which will be my bride? When I know, I will fly directly to her, and propose.” But Marguerite did not answer him; she was offended that he should call her a woman when she was only a girl; and there is a great difference. He asked her a second time, and then a third; but she remained dumb, and answered not a word. Then he would wait no longer, but flew away, to commence his wooing at once.

It was in the early spring, when the crocus and the snowdrop were in full bloom. “They are very pretty,” thought the butterfly; “charming little lasses; but they are rather formal.”

Then, as the young lads often do, he looked out for the elder girls. He next flew to the anemones; these were rather sour to his taste. The violet, a little too sentimental. The lime-blossoms, too small, and besides, there was such a large family of them. The apple-blossoms, though they looked like roses, bloomed to-day, but might fall off to-morrow, with the first wind that blew; and he thought that a marriage with one of them might last too short a time.

The pea-blossom pleased him most of all; she was white and red, graceful and slender, and belonged to those domestic maidens who have a pretty appearance, and can yet be useful in the kitchen. He was just about to make her an offer, when, close by the maiden, he saw a pod, with a withered flower hanging at the end.
“Who is that?” he asked.
“That is my sister,” replied the pea-blossom.
“Oh, indeed; and you will be like her some day,” said he; and he flew away directly, for he felt quite shocked.
What I’m doing with my life
Don’t overthink this one; tell us what you’re doing day-to-day.
- I would link to my social networks, but where's the fun in that?

- I take care of the babies of others and am also, but not simultaneously, professionally naked.

- I am a photographer.
-- I like to take pictures of plants, and butts.

- I wake in fits, people shouldn't have me stay over.
I’m really good at
Go on, brag a little (or a lot). We won’t judge.
- Thwarting malapropos advances.

- Organization.

- Emulsifications.

- Taxonomy.

- Grocery shopping.

- Getting cat hair out of my eyes.

- Growing plants.

- Making coffee.

- Making tea.

- Doing laundry.

- Raising caterpillars.

- Grilling.

- Dansing.

- Coloring books.

- Cleaning the bathroom.

- Farmer's markets.

- Making jam.

- Bourbon.

- Applying sunblock.

- Making the fanciest cookies.

- Making English muffins.

- Harmonization.

- Forgetting to eat lunch.

- Interior decoration.

- Performing tasks as efficiently as possible.

- Making croissants.

- Eating croissants.

- Baking several dozen pies in one afternoon.

- Drinking water.

- Looking serious.

- Embroidery.

- Getting tattooed.

- Writing recipes in perfect order to their methods.

- Writhing anime tentacle dick.

- Checking the recent earthquakes map.

- Rolling around in bed, whining about eating too much dinner.

- Playing Baldur's Gate II.

- Hugging chickens.

- Baking without an electric mixer.

- Growing indoor trees.

- Wiggling.

- Identifying insects.

- Answering questions with questions.

- Steak.

- Composting!

- Building IKEA furniture.

- Self portraits.

- Identifying plants.

- Brunch.

- Public transportation.

- Going to the post office.

- Making terrariums.

- Reverse knitting.

- Catmancing.

- Nannying.
-- Changing diapers.

- Resting bitchface.

- Hiking.

- (Making lists).
The first things people usually notice about me
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
"I thought you'd be a solid 5' 8''."

First Things I Usually Notice About People:
- Height.

- Eye color.

- Symmetry.

- Composition.

- Triangles.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Help your potential matches find common interests.
! - The comic variety; nature journals

@ - Those void of romantic content.

# - Grandiose orchestral things.

$ - Stone fruit, brassicas, alliums, sugar, tea, coffee, butter, basil, garlic, kettle chips, mango, chicken, half n half, eggs, cheese, ramen, butter, butter, butter.
The six things I could never do without
Think outside the box. Sometimes the little things can say a lot.
- Cooking.

- Singing.

- Cameras.

- Corrective lenses.

- Peaches.

- Dresses.

The six things I could do without:

- Pants.

- Sunburn.

- Corrective lenses.

- Phone calls.

- Pickles.

- Cat hair.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Global warming, lunch, or your next vacation… it’s all fair game.
- In the forest, high up on the steep shore, and not far from the open seacoast, stood a very old oak-tree. It was just three hundred and sixty-five years old, but that long time was to the tree as the same number of days might be to us; we wake by day and sleep by night, and then we have our dreams. It is different with the tree; it is obliged to keep awake through three seasons of the year, and does not get any sleep till winter comes. Winter is its time for rest; its night after the long day of spring, summer, and autumn.

On many a warm summer, the Ephemera, the flies that exist for only a day, had fluttered about the old oak, enjoyed life and felt happy and if, for a moment, one of the tiny creatures rested on one of his large fresh leaves, the tree would always say, “Poor little creature! your whole life consists only of a single day. How very short. It must be quite melancholy.”

“Melancholy! what do you mean?” the little creature would always reply. “Everything around me is so wonderfully bright and warm, and beautiful, that it makes me joyous.”

“But only for one day, and then it is all over.”

“Over!” repeated the fly; “what is the meaning of all over? Are you all over too?”

“No; I shall very likely live for thousands of your days, and my day is whole seasons long; indeed it is so long that you could never reckon it out.”

“No? then I don’t understand you. You may have thousands of my days, but I have thousands of moments in which I can be merry and happy. Does all the beauty of the world cease when you die?”

“No,” replied the tree; “it will certainly last much longer— infinitely longer than I can even think of.” “Well, then,” said the little fly, “we have the same time to live; only we reckon differently.”

And the little creature danced and floated in the air, rejoicing in her delicate wings of gauze and velvet, rejoicing in the balmy breezes, laden with the fragrance of clover-fields and wild roses, elder-blossoms and honeysuckle, from the garden hedges, wild thyme, primroses, and mint, and the scent of all these was so strong that the perfume almost intoxicated the little fly.

The long and beautiful day had been so full of joy and sweet delights, that when the sun sank low it felt tired of all its happiness and enjoyment. Its wings could sustain it no longer, and gently and slowly it glided down upon the soft waving blades of grass, nodded its little head as well as it could nod, and slept peacefully and sweetly. The fly was dead.

- Food science.

- Travel.

- In-grown hairs.

- Apocalypse.

- The Prunus genus.

- Uncontrolled division of cells and the ability of those cells to spread.

- Tesseracts.

- Tattooes.

- Bicycles.

- Weekend photo escapades.

- Gardening.

- Weather in places that I am not.

- Sulfates and dyes used to enhance the appeal of food through coloration. (Red Velvet cake is possibly one of the grossest [and sadly, most delicious] examples of excessive use of food color). I take that back, the grossest is actually grape juice.

- Birds.

- How I got to be in second place ranking on the Match Me Test score board. Seriously, how did that happen.

- Grey hairs.

- Wildflowers.
On a typical Friday night I am
Netflix and takeout, or getting your party on — how do you let loose?
There were once five peas in one shell, they were green, the shell was green, and so they believed that the whole world must be green also, which was a very natural conclusion. The shell grew, and the peas grew, they accommodated themselves to their position, and sat all in a row. The sun shone without and warmed the shell, and the rain made it clear and transparent; it was mild and agreeable in broad daylight, and dark at night, as it generally is; and the peas as they sat there grew bigger and bigger, and more thoughtful as they mused, for they felt there must be something else for them to do.

“Are we to sit here forever?” asked one; “shall we not become hard by sitting so long? It seems to me there must be something outside, and I feel sure of it.”

And as weeks passed by, the peas became yellow, and the shell became yellow.

“All the world is turning yellow, I suppose,” said they,—and perhaps they were right.

Suddenly they felt a pull at the shell; it was torn off, and held in human hands, then slipped into the pocket of a jacket in company with other full pods.

“Now we shall soon be opened,” said one,—just what they all wanted.

“I should like to know which of us will travel furthest,” said the smallest of the five; “we shall soon see now.”

“What is to happen will happen,” said the largest pea.

“Crack” went the shell as it burst, and the five peas rolled out into the bright sunshine. There they lay in a child’s hand. A little boy was holding them tightly, and said they were fine peas for his pea-shooter. And immediately he put one in and shot it out.

“Now I am flying out into the wide world,” said he; “catch me if you can;” and he was gone in a moment.

“I,” said the second, “intend to fly straight to the sun, that is a shell that lets itself be seen, and it will suit me exactly;” and away he went.

“We will go to sleep wherever we find ourselves,” said the two next, “we shall still be rolling onwards;” and they did certainly fall on the floor, and roll about before they got into the pea-shooter; but they were put in for all that. “We shall go farther than the others,” said they.

What is to happen will happen,” exclaimed the last, as he was shot out of the pea-shooter; and as he spoke he flew up against an old board under a garret-window, and fell into a little crevice, which was almost filled up with moss and soft earth. The moss closed itself round him, and there he lay, a captive indeed, but not unnoticed by time.

“What is to happen will happen,” said he to himself.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
And then she tucked up her little dress, that she might run faster, but the narcissus caught her by the leg as she was jumping over it; so she stopped and looked at the tall yellow flower, and said, “Perhaps you may know something.”

Then she stooped down quite close to the flower, and listened; and what did he say?

“I can see myself, I can see myself,” said the narcissus. “Oh, how sweet is my perfume! Up in a little room with a bow window, stands a little dancing girl, half undressed; she stands sometimes on one leg, and sometimes on both, and looks as if she would tread the whole world under her feet. She is nothing but a delusion. She is pouring water out of a tea-pot on a piece of stuff which she holds in her hand; it is her bodice. ‘Cleanliness is a good thing,’ she says. Her white dress hangs on a peg; it has also been washed in the tea-pot, and dried on the roof. She puts it on, and ties a saffron-colored handkerchief round her neck, which makes the dress look whiter. See how she stretches out her legs, as if she were showing off on a stem. I can see myself, I can see myself!”
You should message me if
Offer a few tips to help matches win you over.
- You do not have allergies. I was found to be a major allergen among children and young adults.

- You are not old enough to be one of my parents.

- Your freckles are no more than two pantones darker than the base skin tone.

- Your hair does not part down the center of your head.

- Your eyes are separated by a distance of one eye width.

- Your foot, in length, is equal to the length of your forearm.

- You have perfect bilateral symmetry of the ears.

- You retain all of your maxillary and mandibular third molars.

- You retain your body's self destruct mechanisms (the lymphoid tissue ring and the vermiform appendix).

- You look at the tissue after blowing your nose.

- You have a good, firm handshake.

- You do not currently, and/or have not ever owned a pair of athletic sneakers.

- You maintain a clear understanding on the use of sarcasm.

- You have answered more Match Questions than me.

- You clean the grout in your shower with a toothbrush.

- You remember SparkMatch.

- ha ha yeah man my profile *is* really long, tell me all about it.