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30 • West Hartford, CT • Man
I’m looking for
- Ages 24–34
- Near me
- Who are single
- For long-term dating
- Last Online
- Today – 10:22am
- 6′ 0″ (1.83m)
- Body Type
- Mostly vegetarian
- Atheism, and laughing about it
- Capricorn, but it doesn’t matter
- Graduated from university
- Banking / Finance
- Doesn’t have kids, but wants them
- Has dogs
- English (Poorly)
Fantasizing about purchasing a vineyard.
Motion Pictures: In Bruges, Miller's Crossing, Adaptation, Seven Psychopaths, The Prestige, Happiness, L.A. Confidential, Blade Runner, The Rules of Attraction, The Dark Knight, Jurassic Park, Oldboy, Magnolia, The Big Lebowski, The Truman Show, The Piano, Zodiac Home Alone, Die Hard, The Fugitive.
Progr'ms: Deadwood, Breaking Bad, Party Down, Extras, The Office (UK), Sherlock (BBC), Arrested Development, House Hunters International, Homeland, The Killing, Game of Thrones, Cowboy Bebop, Justified, The Wire, Luther, The Newsroom, Orange is the New Black, Hello Ladies, True Detective, Silicon Valley, Rick & Morty, Dateline NBC.
Books: Mitchell, Lethem, Chabon, Chandler, Hammett, McCarthy, Murakami, Fitzgerald, Oates, DeLillo, Shteyngart.
Games: Bioshock Infinite, The Last of Us, Uncharted, The Legend of Zelda, Chrono Trigger, Mass Effect, Smash Bros, Hearthstone, Gin, Pitch, Monopoly, Risk, Settlers of Catan.
Food: Thai, Vietnamese, Indian, Mexican, avocado.
Drink: Herbal tea, decaffeinated coffee, club soda, hefeweizen, red wine, sake, bourbon, rye.
1: NPR / 2: Indie / 3: Chillwave / 4: Electronica / 5: '80s general / 6: New Wave.
WE CAME INTO TOWN under cover of night, because we were pretty sure the people here were going to hate us once they really got to know us. In our lives together, which are sweet in the way of rotting things, it is somehow permanently summer.
THE MOON ROSE above the trees, older than time, greener than money. You hung your head out the window of our dusty lemon-yellow El Camino and howled, and I turned up the radio because the sound of your voice was already beginning to get to me. The speakers crackled and the music came through: Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. 'Pretty as a midsummer's morn, they call her Dawn.' Let the love of God come and get us if it wants us so bad. We know where we are going when all of this is done.
SOME PEOPLE MIGHT SAY that buying a house you've never actually seen close-up is a bad idea, but what does anybody know about our needs, anyhow? For us it was perfect. The peeling paint. The old cellar. The garden in the back. The porch out front. The still air of the living room. The attic. Everywhere entirely unfurnished and doomed to remain largely so, save for our own meager offerings: a cheap sofa, an old mattress, a couple of chairs and some ashtrays. Maybe a table salvaged from some diner gone into bankruptcy, I don't remember. Neither do you. We drank store-brand gin with fresh lime juice out of plastic cups or straight from the bottle and we spread ourselves out face-up on the wooden floors. An aerial view of us might have suggested that we'd been knocked out, but what we were doing was staking our claim. Establishing our territories. Making good. Not on the vows we'd made but on the ones we'd really meant. You produced a wallet-sized transistor radio out of nowhere and you found a sympathetic station: somebody was playing Howlin' Wolf. 'Smokestack Lightning.' O yes, I loved you once. O yes, you loved me more. We entered our new house like a virus entering its host. You following me, me following you. However you like. The windows were high and the walls were thick and sturdy. It was hot as blazes. The guts of summer. Always down in the sugar-deep barrel-bottom belly of summer itself. Always. In our shared walk down to the bottom, which bottom we will surely find if only our hearts are brave and our love true enough, we have found that it is somehow invariably and quite permanently summer.
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