I get why names don't show up on here, but I didn't join a dating site just to slather myself in mystery. Chocolate, on the other hand...

So howdy, I'm Nick. I moved to the Bay Area about four years ago, and I'm completely in love with San Francisco. I'm addicted to music (It's a drug! Like love!) and coffee (It's a drug! Like crack!).

I'll be honest, I'm largely here for the double dating. "The what??" you ask, startled and giddily intrigued. BroKcupid will tell you all you need to know.

Makin' stuff -- the inevitable result of separate knacks for problem solving, language, and fiddling with whatever's in my hands. I write the songs I want to play that express whatever needs airing out. I code like it's my job. (It might be my job.) IKEA is my toy store. I love to cook; I'm lethal with a skillet. I mean, my omelets are tasty. I don't hit people with skillets. Unless you're into that, I guess.

After working on something for hours, there's nothing more satisfying than watching you enjoy it and seeing you smile.

Probably better than your pet at:
Words. Patience. Teaching myself. Keeping in mind that this too shall pass. Working with my hands. Breaking down, analyzing, and rebuilding. Details, because that's where the devil is, and he's a fascinating fella. iPhone development. My songs get mad props from family, friends, and anyone else I pay to say nice things. Take a listen and let me know if they're lying.

Should actually be embarrassed when it comes to:
Professionalism and formality. Names and dates. As in, February 14, 1946. Not like that time we made fun of each other over bourbon and I covertly picked up the check, for which you called me "scoundrel." I'm pretty okay at those.

P.S. I liked your word choice there. Nice.

What's that? Oh, the unbearable buffoonery? That's just my way of being all seductive and whatnot. Are you saying it's not working?

It's not so much that I talk with my hands; it's more that my mouth likes to make noise while my hands explain things to you. It's one part visual aid, one part conducting my train of thought, and one part I JUST GOTTA DANCE!

My even-attractiver man friends. This guy knows what I'm talking about --> JanusSF

I'll read anything by F. Scott Fitzgerald, David Sedaris, Dave Eggers, Billy Collins, Chuck Palahniuk or Nick Hornby. Cormac McCarthy's pretty great -- All the Pretty Horses is beautiful. Most recently read On the Road, Keith Richards' autobiography, Infinite Jest (SO good), and a bunch of programming books. After settling the non-literary aspects of my life, I'm finally breaking back into fiction. Recommendations are warmly welcomed.

Movies are a hell of a list. All-time, I'll say The Big Lebowski for comedy, Requiem for a Dream for tragedy, Lady and the Tramp for animation, The Shining for horror, Casablanca for classics. Moonrise Kingdom is the best thing I've seen this year. Yeah... sorry, Batman.

Rock and/or Roll. Some hip-hop, classical, jazz, and electronic. I'm a sucker for acoustic guitar. Punk rock is my guilty pleasure. Red Hot Chili Peppers, Counting Crows, Ben Folds, Say Anything, Guster, Radiohead, Arctic Monkeys, The Format, Cake, Motion City Soundtrack, Atmosphere, Dispatch, Muse, The Beatles, Aesop Rock. If you haven't discovered Local Natives yet, please get on that. Kimbra is my favorite hot new thang. And how about that new Passion Pit album?

I love all kinds of food, but you can't go wrong with Italian. Or if you do wrong with Italian, I will eat your eggplant parmesan for you. You're welcome. Play your cards right, and you might get to try my world-famous-please-don't-look-into-that spaghetti.

1. Humor. It's how I deal with loss; it's how I make (non)sense of the world; it's how I literally make fun.

2. The full continuum from music to poetry.

3. My bike. Because cramming onto a cattle car labeled MUNI is a brutal way to start the day.

4. My laptop. I'm a nerd.

5. My iPhone. I'm a hip nerd.

6. My guitar. I'm a hip nerd with a strangely attractive allure?

Software architecture. Hot, right? Here, let me wipe away that drool.

How people work. How they need their devices to work. This guy.

How many pull-ups I could do if I weren't weighed down with these stupid legs.

Chords, melodies, words. The beautifully complex things that happen when you set an intricate rhyming structure against a syncopated rhythm. Mmmm, yes.

Sometimes, you just feel like a classy box of wine.

Really, I'm delightfully amused with how typically people answer this with "There's no such THING as typical!!!11!1!!!lolrotflmaololololzzz"

I'm illiterate. My dog transcribed this for me.

And since you're probably wondering: Chihuahua. Sure, they're hunt-and-peck typists, but they won't break your keyboard like a St. Bernard.

Obviously, in a perfect world, you'd be a 4'5" Kenyan albino who's earned advanced degrees in quantum physics and beekeeping, preferably with a fetish for lederhosen.

But hey, nobody's perfect.

If you've got a way with words and a lousy poker face, we should talk.