To live is to live dangerously.
I'm a Zoology graduate, a politically wayward nerd, and a cynic.
I have to reformat this whole thing. Ugh. Wait.
I suppose I'll just state why I'm here?
You will message me. We will fall in love. We will have seven kids. We will homeymoon in Larnaca. We'll send our kids to the grammar school because we want them educated but not have to part with our own money, because that's for Goyim. We'll grow old. The kids will grow sore from the overused belt. Kids will leave home and spread out in a massive diaspora. Only Alex, the retarded one with a cannabis obsession, will stay in touch because he's a weak mummy's boy with over attachment issues. I'll stay working in trade. You will catch me having homosexual sex with an Accountant colleague called Ezra Micah Horowitz. We will seperate. I'll sleep on the study couch and our Shiba dog will take my side of the queen sized bed you paid for because I was worried Shakeel the antisemitic store Cashier would clone my credit card when reading my name. We will move to Vancouver and retire with our pet bear, Kyle. I'll grow senile and dribble and you will become depressed. We will still visit Arizona every year to hang out with Josie and Jesse our American contacts that we met at a Venezuelan border crossing during our younger years. I'll stop remembering your name and become convinced you're a lesbian hockey playing nurse called 'Leanne'. We will die in a fire after I leave the gas stove on when I return after Curling, in a lapse of memory on New Years Eve.
Now you have read how perfect I am above, you really must message.
Otherwise, you must feed me a stray cat so that I don't have to go out hunting tonight.