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27 M New York, NY

I’m looking for

  • Girls who like guys
  • Ages 21–99
  • Near me
  • For new friends, long-term dating, short-term dating, casual sex

My Details

Last Online
Sep 20
5′ 8″ (1.73m)
Body Type
Mostly other
Very often
Agnosticism, but not too serious about it
Working on Ph.D program
Relationship Status
Relationship Type
Doesn’t have kids, and doesn’t want any
Likes dogs and likes cats
English (Poorly)

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My self-summary
Write a little about yourself. Just a paragraph will do.
I described myself in the following way in as a part of an apology text message: "I'm a narcissistic asshole who takes a thousand pictures of himself and is a clinically insane alcoholic." I told the women I sent this to that I included this in my OKC profile, and she thought it was funny- we are cool now :)

I read erotic poetry with no pants:

I am a big fan of honesty! I use it as a means to weed out potential significant others, which it will surely not work out with. If you do not find my profile or pictures humorous; I definitely will not sleep with you, but we can still be friends.

I should add that I have various levels of filters and humor depending on the group of people I am interacting with. For instance I have not dated a young lady whose parents did not adore me (seriously!!- my ex-gf's parents even heard us having sex once and bought me birthday presents two weeks later). I could not walk into a church, night club, scientific conference, farmers market, concert or a frat house without at least the vast majority of people at least finding me amusing to some degree and then being my link on linkedIn.

I am finishing my PhD at an Ivy league school and I've accepted a postdoctoral position at another really good school that isn't Ivy league (just for historical reasons), which I'll be starting in late december. I am the author/co-author of 1 review, 2 patents and 6 primary research articles (if you count two submissions that are pending publication). These things are 100% true, sound surpising now?...just wait until you finish reading.

I felt the need to boost my confidence this morning (August 3, 2014) so I took an IQ test. My IQ is 145, a mere 15 points lower than Albert Einstein, Copernicus, Steven Hawking and Ben Franklin according to google. If I wasn't hungover, I might have had them! I was in the "world cup of beer pong" yesterday. You'll be happy to know I am 4 points higher than hitler and smarter than 37/43 US presidents. I will not date you if you don't know who those people are and at least one major contribution (or asshole thing they did) to society....I like smart women A LOT! If you are smart and your weapon of choice for matching wits is textual messaging, good chance it will work out with us. Bonus points for also being successful or extremely talented at something (doesn't matter what), second biggest turn on. Not because I am a gold digger, I give zero fucks about how much money you make, but I really admire accomplished people in general especially when it is a significant other.

I have an IQ of 152 when I am not hungover with a standard deviation of 4, n=3

I'm very modest (I'm being sarcastic).

I am especially attracted to and respect women that call me out on stupid shit I do and point out when I am wrong, and promptly correct me. Few things you can do that will turn me on more than that.

I am saved in one of my friend's significant others phone's as captain awesome.

I have been called a lucky towel.

I was locked up for a week in a psych ward. I became friends with literally every patient and staff member.

I like to party

I really, really, really like my career. Even more than partying. I literally would never have a drop of alcohol or a puff of a cigarette again were it to jeopardize it in any way shape or form. Science is very fun to me :)

I have more crazy stories than you. If you think otherwise, you should absolutely message me so that we can meet for coffee. At this stage I will try to compare the craziness of your stories to mine as objectively as I can. In the highly unlikely even that you win, it will likely result in me proposing marriage to you.

***it is not a coincidence each of the previous segments began with "I"...I am trying to be consistent with the narcissistic narrative of my about me. I think I'm nailing it!***
to give you some idea of what you are getting into by so much as knowing me I have provided a couple of representative examples.

1) the following is an actual email conversation between myself and the Manhattan cryobank which I was going to go to, to help fund my post PhD defense party:

Dear Manhattan Cryobank,

Thank you for your response to my inquiry. Frankly, I believe your requirement for an attractive and successful male in his late 20's in New York to be abstinate for 3-5 days is unreasonable. If you would be willing to bring that requirement down to 24 hrs, I would be more than happy to provide a sample for you.

thank you for your time,

On Mon, Jul 28, 2014 at 5:15 PM, Manhattan Cryobank wrote:
Hello Matthew,

Thank you for contacting Manhattan CryoBank and for your interest in our Sperm Donor Program. We have reviewed your online application and would like to schedule an appointment with a counselor to explain the next steps and perform a semen analysis. Please note you must have 3-5 days of abstinence from any type of ejaculation on the day of your appointment.

Kindly provide your availability Monday-Friday from 9am-3:30pm via email. We will confirm your appointment via email.


Manhattan CryoBank
110 East 40th Street, Suite 101
New York, NY 10016
212.396.2796 Tel
212.396.2797 Fax

2) What actually happened 7-26-14

"Sisterhood of the traveling pants with Matt and Dr. Andrew" by Me (Matt)

After a splendid evening in Williamsburg for SXXXX's birthday, Matt and Dr. Andrew decided they would like to wish JXXXX a happy birthday as well. Following Matt meeting a transvestite named "Hot chocolate" at Duane Reade, the duo had a rather challenging time getting into this "night club" with Matt wearing shorts. But how can one blame Matt? It was a hot New York night. The bouncer of the night club, John, thought Matt was entertaining and said if "you come back, even wearing jeans, then I'll let you in". They parted ways never to see each other again... or so John thought. Little did he know, Matt tends to do things that are a little less than conventional.

The plot thickens- being the resourceful chap that Matt is, after 3 minutes of walking about half a block Matt met Mark at a local pub.

Matt looked at Mark with a twinkle in his eye and professed "sir you look intoxicated, how would you like to trade my shorts for your pants so that I can get into a night club"

"Do I??!!, fuck yea!" Mark said. Again, it was a hot night in the city and Matt's shorts were looking mighty appealing.

They pranced off down the hall into the bathroom together with his rather upset significant other running after us yelling "Mark, don't you give that drunk lunatic your pants!!". Thankfully Mark was a man of principle and he firmly stood his ground. After the pants exchange and several rather bizarre snap chaps, Matt got Mark's email and he set out to find Dr. Andrew. While this was all going on, Dr. Andrew sure was getting an ear full from Mark's girlfriend AND Mark's friend's girlfriend."I have no control of things that Matt does", said Dr. Andrew....Poor Dr. Andrew. They were not pleased with this, not one bit. They even missed a car they called because of Matt's shorts dilemma.

Having just barely escaped the clutches of Mark's girlfriend, they dashed back to the night club to surprise John with Matt's fancy new pants. John was elated by the sight of Matt wearing pants! As Matt suspected he was indeed a man of his word, "oh we are totally letting this guy in", he proclaimed to his bouncer friends and Dr. Andrew and Matt skipped joyfully down the hallway to the elevator. Being a man of his word as well Matt invited Mark to brunch where they can give one another there respective articles of clothing (see below).

The end (well actually not even close, but probably the funniest part)

3) The following are my funeral arrangements that I specified for the likely outcome of a party I invited my friends to.

In the somewhat likely event that I die at tomorrow world, my funeral instructions are the following: I would like my ashes placed in an empty patron bottle then thrown (not tossed) off the Brooklyn bridge into the east river with ‘fergalicious’ by Fergie playing during the service on repeat. In addition - absinthe, Scotch and patron will be the only beverages available… maybe a little water. The food will be salt and limes (my close friends know I’m not joking about any of this). I’m pretty sure I have at least two lawyers on this email, so I’d like to make this legally binding.

I would also like eulogies from the following people (in this order):
- The guy at Broadway liquor store who knows what I get each time
- VXXX (also THE MAN)
- MXXX (my current roommate)
- Team awesome (the medical student, and two biology graduate students I’m currently mentoring - they helped me name my liver, seriously)
- Mr. ZXXX (high school teacher I bummed a cigarette off of one time, that guy was cool)
- MXXX (a lab mate that I shared the same bed with for a week at a conference)
- Any of the people I met on the street in Montreal in my bathrobe (they're awesome)
- CXX YXXX (my lab sister)
- AXXXX and JXXX (my actual little brothers, I love them)
- At LEAST 3 women that I’ve had sex with...and please, the crazier the story the better
- Grandpa RXXX (who said he would pray for me when I told him I was moving to New York)

That is going to be one awesome funeral, wish I could see it!

I like this poem - Howl by Allen Ginsberg


I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,
a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon,
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,
suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,
who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,
who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,
who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,
who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,
who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,
who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,
who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,
who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,
who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,
who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,
who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,
who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,
who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,
who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman’s loom,
who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,
who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses’ rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,
who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hung-over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,
who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open to a room full of steam-heat and opium,
who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blur floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,
who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,
who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,
who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,
who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology,
who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish,
who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,
who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,
who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,
who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried,
who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,
who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,
who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles,
who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other’s hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,
who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,
who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other’s salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,
who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,
who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,
who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,
who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,
and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,
who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,
returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,
Pilgrim State’s Rockland’s and Greystone’s foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,
with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—
ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you’re really in the total animal soup of time—
and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipsis catalogue a variable measure and the vibrating plane,
who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus
to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,
the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death,
and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America’s naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio
with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.


What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?
Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!
Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!
Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!
Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!
Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smoke-stacks and antennae crown the cities!
Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!
Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!
Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!
Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!
They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!
Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river!
Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!
Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years’ animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!
Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!


Carl Solomon! I’m with you in Rockland
where you’re madder than I am
I’m with you in Rockland
where you must feel very strange
I’m with you in Rockland
where you imitate the shade of my mother
I’m with you in Rockland
where you’ve murdered your twelve secretaries
I’m with you in Rockland
where you laugh at this invisible humor
I’m with you in Rockland
where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter
I’m with you in Rockland
where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio
I’m with you in Rockland
where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses
I'm with you in Rockland
where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica
I’m with you in Rockland
where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx
I’m with you in Rockland
where you scream in a straightjacket that you’re losing the game of the actual pingpong of the abyss
I’m with you in Rockland
where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse
I’m with you in Rockland
where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void
I’m with you in Rockland
where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha
I’m with you in Rockland
where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb
I’m with you in Rockland
where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale
I’m with you in Rockland
where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won’t let us sleep
I’m with you in Rockland
where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls’ airplanes roaring over the roof they’ve come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we’re free
I’m with you in Rockland
in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night


If you want to know more just ask! I love talking to people even if you have no interest in me whatsoever. Especially if you found my profile funny...but even more especially if you did not ;)
What I’m doing with my life
Don’t overthink this one; tell us what you’re doing day-to-day.
puzzles and board games
I’m really good at
Go on, brag a little (or a lot). We won’t judge.
making friends with strangers
The first things people usually notice about me
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
I am a quiet nerd
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Help your potential matches find common interests.
I don't partake in any of these things, including food
The six things I could never do without
Think outside the box. Sometimes the little things can say a lot.
verification that I am 21 years of age
my liver (his name is Emperor Yoshito)
protein powder
a challenge
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Global warming, lunch, or your next vacation… it’s all fair game.
...everything. A very, very large percentage is devoted to science. I do enjoy thinking about that :)
On a typical Friday night I am
Netflix and takeout, or getting your party on — how do you let loose?
at home reading with a cup of hot chocolate or playing settlers of Catan with a nice family I know.

I also like to wikipedia , "wikipedia" and google, "google". Two of my favorite things that can be used as nouns and verbs :)
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
I'm kind of shy....
You should message me if
Offer a few tips to help matches win you over.
you'd like to.

you should really message me if:
1) you are 100% my enemy, I would love to have an arch nemesis.
2) you like to receive lots of back massages and oral sex.
3) you are Michelle Bachmann, Ann Coulter or Sara Palin. I would LOVE to have hot, nasty hate sex with any of you fine republicans.
4) you enjoy fun

- the only situation I can think of where I would not enjoy a message from you is if every one of your pictures is a selfie, I have friends and you should too! Also if more than half have your cat in it. I love cats but come on now.