I must confess that I share a dreadful number of traits with the English Border Collie. I can be quite brilliant, motivated, and energetic as well as faithful and doggedly determined. Unfortunately, if you leave me untended, you can neither count on me to remain reasonably potted nor can you expect me to grow productively like kudzu. Like our four-legged friend, I might tear up your slippers or lend new dimensions to your carpet. So if I do not have some odd project, I tend to be easily and deconstructively distracted. So, indeed, I adore any distraction that leaves me so discombobulated that I cannot remember myself. If to thine own self one must be true, then in my case it might be best to shoot for the hills instead of the mirror.
I have a weakness for reading several books simultaneously and wandering into bookstores and compiling lists of what I would like to read. Naturally, my room seems more like a book closet than an actual resting-place. I prefer thoughtful film to thoughtless explosions, but I do harbor a weakness for historical films, fantasy epics, and reall cool sci-fi. And, as you may gather, I have been a huge Natalie Merchant fan for over a decade. Live music is one of the most wonderful things in the world. I prefer physical activity taking me someplace (jogging, hiking, cross-country skiing, and rafting) to vicarious risk-taking (really high cliff climbing and bat guano collecting in foreboding caverns).
I teach history and psychology. My daughter is seventeen-years old and spends the school week with me. A good friend referred to me as an "odd duck" in the best sense of the word. But whether I am the wrong duck for someone or the right swan really depends on the other person.
WHAT DO I WANT?
I need a woman who comprehends my language of love. Since the sexes are hard-wired to receive romance in different ways, it is essential to establish an emotional vocabulary before allowing words to run with the wind. For me this means that love is choice. It is not a choice akin to that nice squirt of dopamine released by the purchase of your new i-pod or yet another prospective date, but a choice that is an act of will. As an act of will it imposes moral obligations, ethical standards, and a commitment to communication and mutual respect. I find that anything vaguely romantic without that choosing to be bereft of feeling, artificial, and a cultural construction.
Does that I mean am unromantic? No, I just believe people rather than conveniently located thunderstorms make romance. I think that I really want take a little time so that the thought of a beloved drives me utterly crazy and we both know it. After all, passionate love is a brand of everyday insanity. And, most importantly, I need a woman unafraid of expressing her thoughts. Commitments are not implicit things like a flirtation, but explicitly articulated things. I believe love is hard work as much as it is a joy and a pleasure. Anything else, at least for me, would make it something lesser.
So I can be the breeze to your rose petals, but the flight to air must first come to ground. Romance without projection lets you stoke the flames of a glance. Rather than the hormonal forest fire engendered by a few haphazard dates, I would like a slow burn.
I am random, quirky, and existential.