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_salamandroid_

33 M Pasadena, CA

My Details

Last Online
Apr 13
Orientation
Bisexual
Ethnicity
White
Height
5′ 8″ (1.73m)
Body Type
Thin
Diet
Mostly anything
Smokes
No
Drinks
Socially
Drugs
Sometimes
Religion
Atheism, and very serious about it
Sign
Education
Dropped out of space camp
Job
Administration
Income
$30,000–$40,000
Relationship Status
Seeing Someone
Relationship Type
Mostly monogamous
Offspring
Doesn’t want kids
Pets
Likes dogs and likes cats
Speaks
English, German (Okay), French (Poorly), Spanish (Okay), C++ (Poorly)

Similar Users

My self-summary
Low-rent elitist, misogynistic feminist, miscegenating racist, philistine aesthete, undereducated genius, and the most warm-hearted and liberal judgmental asshole you'll ever meet. Don't think too hard about it; just silently thank me for not saying "walking contradiction".

My IQ-to-mass ratio of 3.61 ±0.05 points/kilogram brings all the sapiosexual suitors to the fenced grassy plot adjoining my residence.

MBTI: INTJ, heavy on the I and light on the J. Constitutionally incapable of withholding opinions, allergic to half-assery, immune to flattery, drawn to intensity. Single-minded when excited, scrappy when threatened. I have a strict code of ethics which I've tried to model on the Kantian imperative. I'm an observer and a critical thinker, pragmatic and stubborn, slow to decide but quick to act. I live and think in the moment. I am munificent with trust but parsimonious with loyalty. I brazenly verb nouns and apologetically noun verbs.

Deprived too long of mosh pits, bar fights, and rough sex, I grow restless: only the blood and sweat of men twice my size can balance my chakras.

When I'm happy, I wiggle my butt. Credit to PunchTheSun for noting that my clothing frequently lacks sleeves and therefore I wear my heart on my ass.

My astrological sign is the salamander: I reject your zodiac and substitute my own.

Overall, I suppose that I appeal to a subtler and scarcer instinct, to a more recently learnt emotion, than that which responds to the sort of beauty called charming and fair.< /Hardy>
What I’m doing with my life
Here's what I'm NOT doing: raising kids, impressing parents, keeping up with the Kardashians, promoting political agendas, dropping my whole paycheck on a handbag, praising Jayzus, wearing cheesy fake nerd glasses to attract fake nerds while riding my fixie to a show you wouldn't have heard of, making imaginary social commitments, saving the whales, or measuring my self-worth in Facebook "friends". And I am most certainly not living it only once.

If I took my friends' advice, I could be a renowned writer, programmer, lawyer, bartender, or personal stylist. Instead, internet forever.

Spending my childhood in a dozen different places (military family) has turned the default icebreaker "Where are you from?" into a pet peeve of mine. Feel free to improve your chances of sleeping with me by not using it.

I dance like everyone is watching, because sometimes they are.
I’m really good at
Pattern recognition. Gift-giving. Haircuts. I have perfect pitch, an unparallelled sense of direction, and the ability to untie knots with my mind.

Give me a bottle of vodka, a light bulb, a giraffe, and a shoe and I'll somehow turn them into a delicious mixed drink.

I am more than halfway decent at chess -- class C, if I had to guess -- and will pwn you at Scrabble. Crossword puzzles wring astonishing volumes of long-forgotten trivia from my brain.

I'm really bad at punctuality, card games, sudoku, perfunctory pleasantries (aspie tendencies run in the family and I appear to be affected), and anything requiring above-average gross motor skills.
The first things people usually notice about me
From the left: the upturned half of my lopsided smirk. From the right: industrial piercing. From the front: unflinching eye contact, firm handshake. From beneath: that I have climbed a tree. From any angle: tallishness, NPR voice with NSFW content, trail of Amandes Orientales Lalique Le Parfum B*Men can't even keep track anymore, spontaneous dancing, assorted bruises of mysterious origins and peculiar placement.

Online, the adjectives "smart" and "intimidating" appear with tedious regularity. Smart is a gimme, and I want to meet people who find me appealing, not scary.

The first thing I notice about you is our match percentage*, followed by your essays and your personality graph. If I like what I've read, I'll get around to looking at your photos.

*Speaking of which: meet RedPresident, my best friend and highest match on all of OkC. He's like a big, cuddly, uncannily clever and somewhat insane guard dog with opposable thumbs; try not to piss him off.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
I like books and movies that make sense -- whether predicated on history or scientific facts or simple coherent plot structure -- or, at the very least, aspire to do so. Seeing "sci-fi/fantasy" smushed together like a single concept makes me cringe a little.

Shows only have to be funny; sense is optional (though I draw the line at anthropomorphic fast-food items).

My playlists predictably channel my key inner personae: a mid-phase rivethead, a late-phase goth, an angry teenage boy, and an '80s butt-rocker.

For someone who loves food as much as I do, I forget to eat on an alarmingly regular basis. If my ribs start to poke through my clothes, please offer me Werther's caramels, medium-well steak, spicy calamari, mac 'n cheese, tonkotsu ramen, melon, almonds, dark chocolate, Dave & Buster's pretzel dogs, or anything covered with garlic.

Miscellaneous: harpsichords, earthquakes, water birds of all shapes and sizes, cheese, old books, inclement weather, German wine, burning hot showers, crystalline structures, head rubs, dessert-scented bath products, cobalt blue glass, my fuzzy dinosaur pajamas, and that little misdirected triangle of fur at the tip of a cat's nose.
The six things I could never do without
Materialistically: air conditioning, shiny sports car, sturdy pair of boots , supportive bra, touch-up vial of my latest and greatest fragrance blend, and... fuck, I don't know. A towel?

Notice I did not mention lip products. I hate having goop on my lips.

Psychologically: intimacy*, self-expression, self-respect, occasional isolation, autonomy, perception of mutual understanding.

*Youngish geeky/nerdy guys and unpretentious girls (yes, advertising how hard you're not trying is a form of trying too hard) click really well with me. Conventionalists of any stripe do not.

Know what we all could absolutely do without? Users who brag about their bedroom skills on their profiles. This is 21st-century America; getting your partner off regularly is a basic human competency, not a noteworthy talent.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
How underrated honesty is; traffic patterns; the implications of etymology; the inexorable isolation of the human condition; the singularity. First-world solutions to first-world problems. Boys.

The incredibly narrow spectrum of socially appropriate behaviour, insofar as that only one (or at best a small handful) out of millions of possible words or actions is ever correct or expected at a given time.

What it says about our online community that we've gone from Myspace angles and shirtless poses to zombie costumes and fake mustaches as the customary way to entice potential mates.

On a more serious note: how to manage a condition whose symptoms impede my ability to seek treatment for it. I mean, come on, universe -- this is some circular-ass bullshit.
On a typical Friday night I am
- [up] [up] [down] [down] [L] [R] [L] [R] [stomp] [kick] [spin]

- embroiled in the nth hour of a Wiki-thon, having completely forgotten to get dressed and go out.

On Saturday night I may be:

- on fire

- jeopardising my life with spontaneous mountaineering

- meandering through the local hot spots, "accidentally" knocking over woo-girls like bowling pins*

*Should I ever find myself in New York, I will not leave until I have knocked this girl over.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
Yes, there's an M at the top of my profile. Yes, I'm shaped like a girl. However, I identify as gender-neutral when given the option. If you use feminine pronouns or forms of address in writing to me, I'll assume you didn't read this and be very unlikely to respond.

I have a severe startle reflex and a phobic reaction to being chased.

My pathological compulsion to read ALL the books spontaneously abated when I discovered the Internet in 1995. I'll still read that one you gave me, but it might be the only one I pick up this month.

I can forgive nearly any other transgression more readily than the slightest dishonesty or dissimulation. Drive my car off a cliff, blow our life savings at the casino, fuck my best friend -- we'll work through it. Lie about it or keep it from me -- game over.

Celebrity crushes: Michelle Rodriguez, Asa Butterfield (shut up, he's legal in his home country).
I’m looking for
  • Everybody
  • Ages 21–39
  • Near me
  • For new friends
You should message me if
At a loss for the perfect pick-up line? Rather than insipid compliments or self-evident commonalities, please, say something you *don't* like about me, thus demonstrating that you've been paying attention and have standards (you'd be amazed how often neither of those is the case).

I'd really prefer that:

- you've answered at least 300 questions and we match at least 90%.

- you're INTP or INTJ.

- you have never referred to yourself as "laid-back", "easygoing", or a "nice guy".

- you aren't too self-important to be occasionally quite silly.

- you, too, give precisely zero fucks about Burning Man.

- you want to buy me a theremin, or help me build one.

- you'll be thrilled rather than dismayed when I turn out to be exactly what I said I was.