When I was sixteen, three neighboring sisters down the street from me asked me to play truth-or-dare; seventeen years later I’m still wondering if they knew just how scared that punk skater-boy really was. So began my adult life in the big-haired burbs of Chicago. A city I haven’t revisited, until a few years ago after having traveled the nation and, to a much smaller extent, the globe; I made the trek back home that summer… though, I was without my skateboard this time – lost somewhere in the Jamaica on a family vacation years ago.

Today, even after seven years in half as many neighborhoods, I find myself hoping to settle into this city; its a rolling grid of streets and waterways still seemingly foreign to me having grown up amongst six foot corn, funny looking pigs, and red hay barns. During this time, I’ve had four wonderful relationships with women who I respect and care for deeply. That said, I’m now looking to find people with whom I can spend time and talk -- you know that long forgotten skill of simply discussing things like how we’ve turned out to be nothing like the adults in our childhood dreams, and what we plan to do about it. So then who am I? Well, I’m several people. I’m a doer. You need cream cheese and lox on a toasted bagel at 4am; I can find it – partly because I wouldn’t mind some myself. I’m a maverick. You want to buck the system and have good reasons; ok, I’m curious. I’m a listener. Sorry, one more time, could you explain why you are so keen on taking over the world, because I’m really interested in your reasoning. I’m a scholar. My graduate academic transcripts will have you believing this, at least. I’m an artist, in lower-case. I said I’d weld a new steel platform bed capturing my minimalist aesthetic, but I never thought about actually fitting it through the doorway to the bedroom (not to worry the doer in me will get the piano movers to bring it through the window after I’ve resolved that resizing the door is not a good idea and the now required shot of bourbon has worn off). I’m a host. You want to throw a Mediterranean dinner party for fifteen, just say when and I’ll handle the rest – only you clean up. I’m a pain, at times. You wanted lox and cream cheese after the dinner party where we discussed Epistemology (though we didn’t use the word) and hackneyed plans to take over the second life (*geek alert), and now I have to remind everyone that we’re out of red wine. In the end, I’m more and, sometimes, much less.

Yet, there are very few things that I am not right now, but some should be mentioned to save everyone a big headache. I’m not a big fan of professional team sports; if you want to go to a baseball game more than once, you’re going by yourself (I’ll be their in spirit, don’t worry). I’m not a lover of television, with one or two cartoon exceptions. I am not religious but I am open to talking about faith, spirituality, Jerry Faldwell, fuzzy friendly Japanese spirit guides, and god. Finally, I’m not fond of lists.

Some final thoughts: a question I’ve been struggling with is whether opposites attract? And if so, can that attraction sustain the relationship? At the moment, I’m disposed to say no. So, unless someone can persuade me otherwise, I’m all up for meeting people with whom I find much of myself. However, there’s a good corollary to this: two exact equals will probably repel each other pretty darn well - If I had to spend time with another me, I’d likely need therapy for years afterward. Therefore, in the words of our wordsmithing former president, let ‘em be “similar but different”.

Oh yes, I can't resist mentioning a few complete turn-ons (but I also firmly believe people, like books, are more than the sum of their pages... but these particular pages somehow end up the more dog-eared ones): freckles, resourcefulness, creative spontaneity, chutzpah, and a strong aesthetic style. And then there are the back of the bookcover items which few people read or get to, but are important, for example a deviant side which people dont get or assume too much from, sigh... or my weird obsession with freedom of expression.