I'm just on here looking for a girl who thinks I'm prettiest when I've just woke up in the morning with no make-up on, and someone who knows the difference between jelly and jam. I'm not afraid of wolves, although if I ever came face-to-face with a pack of wolves, I would probably be scared. I like lasagna and a few David Lynch movies.
I bring both the noise and the funk. At the end of all my job interviews, the part where they ask if you have any questions, I just threaten to kill myself in an even, creepy monotone.
As a result, I'm now the longest-serving fryboy at the Wendy's on 32nd Street.
Most nights you can find me alone, rutting away into an uncovered mattress. If you caught me at it, it might feel like spying on a randy bull spending itself against a tarpaulin-covered woodshed. You might be strangely turned on by it.
If you're into it, hit me up, we can do Snapchat like all the kids are doing these days, but be forewarned, snapping with me is like the equivalent of a seizure inducing Pokemon episode after smoking crystal meth at a Skrillex concert.