Sure, I could help myself to the old furniture in the basement -- but it was all or nothing. If I was taking the old couch and loveseat, I had to take the 30-ton bureau that had soaked up my grandmother's tears when she learned that an assassin's bullet had cut short the dream of Camelot.
So, that's how I came to Rochester, flying down the 90 from my ancestral home in Buffalo in a 300 foot long U-Haul truck, "vintage" furniture and all. I'm sprawled on my bed as I type this and I keep glancing over at the bureau, like it's going to be shaking its head at me because I'm talking shit about it on a dating website.
I act like I'm such an intellectual, and I am a pretty smart guy -- but frankly most nights it's beer, Wikipedia and Netflix. I'd like to go out and DO stuff, but I also feel like a complete idiot walking into a place by myself. (This worked out great when I dreamed of being a cub reporter. Did I mention the B.A. in journalism?)
Sometimes I listen to "What's Goin' On" by Four Non Blondes and I get a little emotional. Don't judge.
Oh, and I left "Drugs" blank over there because I've smoked pot several times, and wouldn't be adverse to doing so again under the right circumstances, but "Sometimes" makes it sound like I hit a bong once a week. There's lot of crap on OKCupid that's lacking in the ability to convey nuance like that. Same thing with smoking, really -- I _ occasionally_ like to have a cig when I'm drinking. Not every time.