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25 Conshohocken, PA Man


I’m looking for

  • Women
  • Ages 18–31
  • Near me
  • Who are single
  • For new friends, long-term dating, short-term dating, casual sex

My Details

Last Online
Online now!
5′ 10″ (1.78m)
Body Type
Strictly anything
When drinking
Other, but not too serious about it
Libra, but it doesn’t matter
Working on space camp
Relationship Status
Relationship Type
Doesn’t have kids
Likes dogs and likes cats
English (Fluently), Spanish (Poorly)

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My self-summary
Write a little about yourself. Just a paragraph will do.
Like many men my age, I'm 24.
What I’m doing with my life
Don’t overthink this one; tell us what you’re doing day-to-day.
Working as saute at a respectable spot outside town for the spiritual fulfillment, with boisterous ambitions of someday settling down and taking a nice nap or something. Then on the day(s) off guzzling tea, hanging out with the roomies on the deck, and doin thangs. I try not to let the excitement get to me.

Six out of seven weekdays agree, I'm at fucking work! :(
I’m really good at
Go on, brag a little (or a lot). We won’t judge.
Giving high-fives! Protip: Concentrate on the other person's elbow, and you will never, ever miss. Afterwards, stare them dead in the eyes while you slowly lick your hand for psych-out points.

I'm always getting up there a bit cooking-wise (more "proctologist-turned-heart-surgeon" "up there" than "nose-picking" "up there"), and am a fairly skilled drawer of dicks, a master debater, a pretty good sunfish sailor, and am an esteemed drunken conversationalist. I've also recently spent a year apprenticing as a custom cabinet maker, which left me with a number of manlyish skills such that you may actually forget just how little facial hair my soft girly face is capable of hosting. Aw yeah guryl, I'll hang yo drywall

Things I'm markedly *not* good at: Snapping my fingers (or anything demanding even a semblance of rhythm), accents, convincing my mom I'm actually straight (at least she doesn't take me for a manslut I guess), not listening to Pete Yorn when drunk, truly enjoying football, and hula-hooping.
The first things people usually notice about me
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
My somehow graceful execution of general goofy-ass-motherfucker-ness.

For the perceptive: the ever-freshly burned and cut forearms, knife-hand calluses, and seemingly magical pockets of holding packed with fine point sharpies which are indicative of a fine dining schmoe in the wild.

When I go to a bar/liquor store, usually the impression is that I have some pretty good connections in the fake id community. I am all that is 17-year-old looking.

Honorable mention: my fly is open.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Help your potential matches find common interests.
I dig Tarantino and Kubrick, for a start. Lately interested in Coen brothers. Whole lot of 12+ year scotch and dark beers these days. I have never read a Camus quote that wasn't pretty awesome.

I fucking love Shogun by James Clavell, and ASOIF. Brand New. I sort of still have a lingering thing for Fear Before the March of Flames from highschool. I like getting stoned and observing cinematography. Of course I like Breaking Bad and the League. Jeff Buckley is lovely. Lately there's been a good amount of Okkervil River, Ryan Adams, and Nine Inch Nails up in this bitch. Arcade Fire the Suburbs, on repeat.

Food. On Food and Cooking is my bathroom reader. Lately floating around the coffee table somewhere:
1. "Basic butchering of livestock and game"
2. " The Forager's Harvest: A Guide to Identifying, Harvesting, and Preparing Edible Wild Plants"
3. " Emergency War Surgery: The Survivalist's Medical Desk Reference"
4. "Attack of the Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goons"
5. " The SAS Guide to Tracking, New and Revised"

I'm not sure what the NSA has to say about my reading habits.

9 year-old me requests a shout-out for Calvin and Hobbes, Hitchhiker's Guide, and the Far Side.
The six things I could never do without
Think outside the box. Sometimes the little things can say a lot.
I don't need much. I appreciate my vices, family, and music. I'm a stoic motherfucker.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Global warming, lunch, or your next vacation… it’s all fair game.
Whether to drop it all, go full Jiro and stage at some places in Europe, or drop fine dining and pursue something more natural to me, whatever that may be.

I'm fascinated by ironic facts, corruption, and the ugly side of human nature. The ugly is beautiful to me, it's more realistic than shiny, pretty things. Hardcore drugs, criminal methods, government corruption, special operations in WWII, ridiculous dictators, espionage, and pathophysiology may all seem like dreadfully morbid subjects, but to me, learning about them is akin to the satisfaction of a quiet girl reading poetry in a coffee shop.

I like learning about those things, but more often than not, on long car trips I'm usually mowing over subjects like biotechnology/transhumanism, legal/social philosophy, technology (nano/medical/comp), eastern philosophy, ethics, and social sciences (oddly without crashing). It would appear that the action of shoving whiskey/wine and snazzy cured meats in my gullet is likely to cause rambling about all of these things in a significantly disorganized fashion.

Absurdism, humanism and buddhism.
On a typical Friday night I am
Netflix and takeout, or getting your party on — how do you let loose?
"Five bouche; Mix, two Smoke Crudo Oysters followed by two Foie Octo Soup Gnudi, followed by Bouilla Tilefish Beef Skate Large Cavatelli."

The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
I am nearly impossible to get to any other day than mondays, at least until friggin 11pm or later. Like the McDonalds breakfast menu for alcoholics. But hey, I could be the sausage patty your hangover dreams are made of.

If released into the wild, I will turn over rocks and poke things with sticks relentlessly. Semi-related, I have determined that I definitely can't smell stink bugs. Thank you genetic lottery in this aspect. Except for the crippling fear of never truly knowing if I smell like shit or not.

Whenever I stay at someone's house after a night of drinking, I wake up early and find a pen and notepad, and spend five minutes making a detailed dick drawing before hiding it somewhere in the house. Crisper drawer, tv remote battery case, keurig cartridge loader, dishwasher, etc. Don't look at me like that, I'm totally spilling my heart out here

Not quite a private detail, but an insider's one nonetheless, and something for the psych major's among you to soak up: I'm the youngest of seven, with one sister. Half my influences are sarcastic witty nerdlings, and the other half, worldly drunkards, and I love them all.
You should message me if
Offer a few tips to help matches win you over.
You want to grab a drink. And drink it.

You want to lend me a GoPro I can strap on my head for a saturday dinner service, so I can be an artsy dirty hipster fuck.

"What's up" and "How are you" are deep, meaningful questions that have bewildered mankind for centuries, and I'm afraid I simply don't have the answers you seek.

Consider this a litmus test for humor:

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