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joshuaroy

30 M Seattle, WA

I’m looking for

  • Girls who like guys
  • Ages 20–31
  • Near me
  • For new friends, long-term dating, short-term dating

My Details

Last Online
Sep 15
Orientation
Straight
Ethnicity
White
Height
6′ 0″ (1.83m)
Body Type
Overweight
Diet
Mostly anything
Smokes
Sometimes
Drinks
Often
Drugs
Sometimes
Religion
Atheism
Sign
Aries, and it’s fun to think about
Education
Dropped out of university
Job
Hospitality
Income
Less than $20,000
Relationship Status
Single
Relationship Type
Strictly non-monogamous
Offspring
Doesn’t have kids
Pets
Dislikes dogs and dislikes cats
Speaks
English

Similar Users

My self-summary
Write a little about yourself. Just a paragraph will do.
One day, back in Alabam, a lark clattered all my things into a trailer and flew me to the wild northwest. It decided to share itself with a whole bunch of my great friends. But, wyrdly enough, the lark swept each of them away in turn and left me here, defenseless and stubborn.
What I’m doing with my life
Don’t overthink this one; tell us what you’re doing day-to-day.
squandering it with like maybe two sheets to the wind. I'm not freebasing the air trapped in thrift-store suitcases or nothing. Or wading into wishing wells for a quick buck. I'm carousing and stumbling and roving and gerunding with a recklessness.
I’m really good at
Go on, brag a little (or a lot). We won’t judge.
anagrams. I store God anally, Gramama.
The first things people usually notice about me
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
are the facts that I'm either buying something from them or am eminently forgettable.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Help your potential matches find common interests.
I have favorite things, and I could list them here, but I refuse to bullet myself. That's like suicide, yo! These things are ever-changing. I've found myself more than once in my youthier times speaking in hushed tones about my endless love for certain bands or genres, only to find my aged self scoffing at my younger self while making the same assertions about other bands or genres. Ad infinitum? Prolly.

This here's my thinkin' music.
The six things I could never do without
Think outside the box. Sometimes the little things can say a lot.
Five of them are people. The sixth is me.

I'm keeping that old answer, cause I kind of like it. Though, on reflection, it seems a bit dramatic. The real truth is that they're all people and paper and people on paper. Which really means there's only one thing I can't do without: ALL BRAINS. I like every brain, ever. Mostly the way those brains move lips and hands with hopefully an inking tool in it. Unless you're deaf, in which case hands take the place of lips in the previous sentence. Though the inking-tool hope still stands cause I cain't ASL.

P.S. I edited 'last sentence' into 'previous sentence' 'cause 'lips' doesn't even appear in the last sentence.

P.P.S. I'm aware of the confusion those apostrophes caused, and I"m sorry if you"re thrown.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Global warming, lunch, or your next vacation… it’s all fair game.
thinking. I like to people-watch, and I'm often (nearly) overwhelmed when I realize strangers have thoughts, middle names, parents, problems, favorite things, and et ceteras. Social evolution, the strange and wonderful and flawed nature of physical evolution, lyrics, gender roles, ignorance in relation to bliss, druthers, double-spacing after periods, hoboing, my own dumb identity, where I can get some of that money I hate. I consider myself a thoughtful person, though I'd prefer to consider myself an evidently interesting one, but that's up to others to decide once thoughts become words.
On a typical Friday night I am
Netflix and takeout, or getting your party on — how do you let loose?
racing my soapbox uphill. Changing my speed-dial list to include whomever I want to be the next big thing in Bollywood. Ghost riding a public-transit whip. Consulting my clones regarding the status of phase four. Eating the last truffle from the last mouth of the last boar in line. Bangaranging. Offering my hand in marriage, for the sake of the Cause. Fist-bumping strange smiles. Faking my own birth. Forging the phone call to save the day but not actually saving the day with it. Saving a different day. Mobius frowning. Spending exactly one dollar on my psychic friend.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
I spent more than a dollar. Emoticon.
You should message me if
Offer a few tips to help matches win you over.
you'd rather hear a hypothetical than a thetical.

you understand that I don't talk like this in real life.

you're okay with the fact that I am apparently incapable of mentioning anything about myself in this venue. I get caught up when I write things and have a philosophical aversion to naming my personality's characteristics, cause I decided a long while ago that only other people can properly make those assessments. I try my best not to fixate on any particular thing until it's made obvious that I'm allowed. Here's that suicide I mentioned: I spend all my time on brain-things. Crosswords, beer, conversation, television, you know. I'm an insufferable grammar-and-spelling Nazi, often over-doing things like hyphens and commas. I keep quiet the lexical sins I notice until I know the recipient is appreciative of the Nazi-ing. I really love sci-fi and a slew of other nerdy things, though I don't really identify as a 'nerd,' whatever that means; I am an observant, talkative cynic who likes MTG and considers social tact paramount. This is different from regular tact; I can talk about god and fucking and flaws and cannibalism as easily as I can the sports game or the weather or the price of gas. I can't talk sports. I have a very strong sense of morbid curiosity that I either can't seem to squelch or don't want to. That preposition made me quake for a moment, but I'm trying to accept it as the new place English is at. I really like druthers, and I can rattle them off at break-neck speeds, unless you'd rather I didn't. I like to write things and drink things and am trying to like to pick up heavy things and sweat on things. I have a secret dream to be a bad-ass cowboy, all dust and stubble, but I talk too much for some dreams. I think humor and critical thinking and general discontent are three sides of the same coin, which is to say, ignorance is inarguably bliss. The computer is arguing with me regarding the existence of the word 'inarguably.' I think worrying about things is a waste of time, which is weird, since I'm kind of a hypochondriac. So is anger and especially spite, for that matter. I'm realizing that I'm just paraphrasing past conversations I've had with myself and others, and I'd rather just phrase them again with your new insight. I could go on and on, but I'm sure there's some disgusting new video I should be watching right now.