I've recently found a new sense of purpose and direction, so my old profile no longer seems right. It isn't incorrect, mind you; it's an aspect of me--the social, somewhat dreamy side of me that likes to see the possibilities in everything--that is always lurking beneath the surface. But I'm going to archive it here:

Since you're looking at my profile on a computer, you don't have the luxury of forming an impression of me based on chance observation, as local people can when they see me every day at the nearby Starbucks. Therefore, you won't have noted that I say "thank you" after every transaction, nor will you have intuited that I'm an enthusiastic and warm person from the way I smile at the barristas that know my name. Your eyebrow didn't arch skywards when I hauled in that odd collection of books, gadgets, tools, and other surprising ephemera to share with my friends; the passing thought that I must be possessed of an [[eclectic]] and somewhat-alarming range of [[creative]] interests therefore didn't flit across your mind. And sadly, you missed the opportunity to sit-in on last week's informal symposium on how to take over the world--just enough of it, anyway--so we can fund our own ideas of purpose, fun, and adventure. If I'd caught you looking our way, I would have invited you to come sit with us. And that would have been the beginning of our [[friendship]].

I'm looking for a long-term relationship with a partner who can also be one of my best friends. I learned long ago that trying to define exactly WHO that would be is an absolutely futile exercise because THE SPARK is mysterious and unpredictable. It's something we will discover together, perhaps over a tasty ethnic dinner in a strange new city, pairing local wines with our favorite [[artisan blue cheese]]. We'll find bits of it in the forest, our presence dwarfed by the grandeur of ancient trees as we search for unexpected treasure. It'll start to come out after you admit to liking something pretty amazingly silly, both of us choking on our own laughter when I confess to something even worse. We may find it at 90 miles per hour, GPS ticking off the miles, as we seek out the only North American distributor of that specialty product you suspect you shouldn't live without. And when we fall asleep each other's arms, groggily looking forward to creating our better tomorrow, we'll know that what we're doing now would have remained mere possibility in the hands of another couple, the shadow of a memory of a path not taken.

So why not say hello? It's a small word, easily said, that just may open the way to something grand. I'm very personable. I'll show you my favorite table at Starbucks, and we can take it from there.