My circadian rhythms have drifted toward the nocturnal every chance they get, so I'm getting a lot of reading and learning done while teaching myself to paint until sunrise. Or In watching something Batman related while working out. I have my vices.
Am I lonely? Occasionally, but I think I'm an ambivert or a gifted faker. Am I in it for the sex? In part, I suppose. Aren’t most of us, in one way or another, in it for sex?
I mean, isn’t the entirety of society? All the nuances of society with all of its color, right angles, and industrialized food production? At the end of the day, isn’t it all just a fantastic support system for our genitals?
The only way to escape the machine is asexuality.
And while that might leave an asexual with a lot of time for other pursuits and hobbies, relationships, and the things that go along with them are some of my pursuits and hobbies, in a slightly more than friends way. And that’s why I’m not a monogamous man. One person can be lovely. More can be lovelier. Solitary confinement is one of the worst tortures. Take that, Sartre!
In summation: If you’re into monogamous relationships, great. I’m not and you probably will find me a waste of your time in that respect. If you’re up for a conversation that could lead somewhere, you should write me.
Actually, the other side of the coin, now that I reflect, it seems to me that if something has nothing to do with survival, that it could be considered art. Although survival of the species and starvation could be reasons why one might make a painting. Sex, a paycheck, and hopefully dinner comes into play somewhere. That seems more necessary and I do like cooking. But if there's an art to cooking, isn't that embellishment in spite of or for the genital support machinery? Adding sodium in the pursuit of transforming matter sounds more like science to me. And I don't know that the perfect amount of salt leads to sodomy. Perhaps if I could parse the chaos theory behind that sequence of events.
I can be verbose (obviously,) but I seldom send the first message, since being a woman on a dating site means being inundated with awful pricks saying awful things. Or at least endless reams to waste your time. I actually read people’s profiles and questions. Because you’re people. (Although I suppose that's an assumption based on years of experience.)
In the case of you being a robot, there are better examples of humanity than me to pass that Turing test you’re studying for. I've probably read too much by too many drug user to pass, myself. And if you’re a dead person, might I recommend www.ghostsingles.com? (I think they discriminate against the corporeal though. Sorry vampires and zombies.)
My turn ons include curly hair and original thoughts. And dyed hair. And humor. And eloquence. I enjoy all sorts of booze that's good enough not to warrant a chaser, few tobaccos, and some mind altering substances like hallucinogens and caffeine. And alcohol, I suppose. I do not enjoy long walks on the beach because I don't like the beach. Give me an arroyo or a mountain any day. Hell, even an urban environment when the city feels abandoned, or a neighborhood when the gardens are in bloom. On occasion I've been known to sneak into old graveyards under cover of night to have sex or listen to Mozart's requiem. It's about the same level of enjoyment. A couple if times I've wandered into house parties and that's had different results. Actually, don't stress if your hair isn't dyed or curly. Or you don't have any at all. What turns my head is different from what turns me on.