Yes, so I'm here for romance in my age range -- love, cuddles and the whole longterm bliss-in-mind-and-body thing -- but I'm also looking for activity pals and creative collaborators, who could be any age. And there's another plus to meeting: I could be your eccentric, bohemian friend.
As a mate, I like a really strong, intellectual and passionate woman. Brains are more important than beauty. Being funny is more important than being pretty. Though I would not kick Sophia Loren out of bed (still hot at the ripe age of 80). A relationship really works if each one is a solid rock for the other.
I write: novels, plays, songs, etc.
I also perform -- singer-songwriter, one-man shows, slam poetry.
Plus I make the fluffiest omelets you can imagine. They're like munching warm summer air.
I love doing the dishes. No kidding. Also, I love cooking. And cleaning the house. Hey, unless a man does all the housework when he's in partnership with a woman, and sets her free from all unpaid housework, he has not earned the right to call himself a feminist.
I'm in touch with my feminine side, but it stops at my underwear.
I'm financially independent and really happy. Saved enough money to stop being a wage slave in 1997. Life has been a carnival ever since.
I'm well-traveled: have lived on three continents.
I'm highbrow: prefer Wallace Stevens to Billy Collins, though I like Billy Collins. Prefer Bob Dylan to Journey, though I like Journey. Prefer Edith Piaf to Barry Manilow, though I've got nothing against Barry Manilow. Prefer James Joyce to John D. MacDonald, though I've read more MacDonald than Joyce.
I'm off-the-grid eccentric: no TV, no Facebook, no Twitter, no phone -- what, no phone? gadzooks! forsooth! yep, no phone; a phone wastes so much time -- email does it all for me fasterbettersmarter. And I have no wish to become a textbot. I'd rather talk than text. There's nothing more asocial than social media.
I'm quite bawdy. I like to make love till we're both reduced to senseless blobs of gasping pleasure. I find it really makes up for a bad hair day.
Can't quite decide if I'm more romantic than sentimental, or vice versa. This song I wrote and sang embroiders some of this confusion:
I spent the first half of my life acquiring a thick skin, and now I'm trying to shed it to become the sweet, sensitive chap I am at heart.