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38 M Austin, TX

I’m looking for

  • Girls who like guys
  • Ages 28–42
  • Near me
  • Who are single
  • For new friends, long-term dating

My Details

Last Online
Today – 5:36am
6′ 0″ (1.83m)
Body Type
Mostly vegetarian
Cancer, but it doesn’t matter
Graduated from Ph.D program
Rather not say
Relationship Status
Relationship Type
Strictly monogamous
Doesn’t have kids
Likes dogs and likes cats
English (Okay), German (Poorly)

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My self-summary
Write a little about yourself. Just a paragraph will do.
I grew up in this dilapidated little house on the edge of town. My mom was a pollyanish laundrywoman. My dad was a taciturn factory worker. (Or so I gather. I never really did get clear on what he did all day.) My grandparents, all four of them, used to sleep side-by-side in a little bed.

Things started to change for me the day this local chocolatier decided to sponsor a contest and give the winners a tour of his factory. He was an eccentric recluse--sort of a cross between Howard Hughes and Michael Jackson--and desperately in need of some good PR. See, his factory (or actually "cult compound" is more like it) had always operated in kind of a legal gray area. For years, there'd been whispers about industrial espionage, indentured servitude, all sorts of malfeasance. But now the accusations had advanced beyond the usual management-labor stuff into Nazi war-crime territory. The entire Product Development team, in fact, had been accused of experimenting on human subjects. Really unspeakable stuff, like turning people into giant blueberries.

Of course, now we know that the whole contest was a gambit to evade government inspections. But at the time it seemed like good clean fun. How did I get all mixed up in this?, you might ask. Well, the way the contest worked is that you had to find a golden ticket inside one of the chocolate bars. I'd had some problems with scratch-off lottery tickets in the past, so this contest struck a nerve with me and I spent every dime I had on it: my paper route money, my family's grocery money, everything. "Go pick up some bread," my mom would say to me, and the next thing you'd know I'd be in some decrepit alleyway, tears streaming down my face, chocolate all over my mouth. Nowadays we call this a gambling addiction, but at the time there was no household term for it, and the only thing to do was to suffer in silence.

Then a very strange thing happened. Against all odds, I found the golden ticket. I won the contest (that is to say, if being lured into the domicile of a weird confectionist can ever properly be described as "winning").

So I got to tour the candy factory. I don't have time to tell you what-all went on there, but let me just say that it was some fucked up shit. Not everybody made it out of there OK. And, strangely, the contest ended up being more than just a ham-handed PR stunt. Turns out the confectionist was also grooming his successor. And guess which puckish little kid had just the right amount of charm to land the job? Guess which mop-headed scamp finagled his way right into upper management? You guessed it: I did.

So where does that leave us? Well, I'll tell you where it leaves me. It leaves me as the BIGGEST CHOCOLATE MAGNATE IN WHOLE, MOTHER-EFFIN' WORLD. You've heard of Hershey? He's a punk compared to me, and you can tell him I said so. Cadbury? I can buy and sell him a hundred times over. Basically, it's my world now and you all just live in it.
What I’m doing with my life
Don’t overthink this one; tell us what you’re doing day-to-day.
I'm also in this club where, like... ok, I'm not actually allowed to tell you about it. (In fact, that's the very FIRST rule of this club, as the dude who founded it is so fond of saying. And indeed it's also the second rule. (Which is sort of overkill, if you want my opinion.)) In any case, it's a really great bunch of guys, if you can get past all the punching and stuff. Let's just leave it that.
I’m really good at
Go on, brag a little (or a lot). We won’t judge.
Falling down the internet rabbit hole and gathering answers to such vital questions as: What were the exact circumstances of Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungeon's deaths (the details are murky, but I've read their actual death certificates); Where is the comedian Carrot Top from? (Florida), and What's his deal anyway? (dunno); Is it possible to listen to a recording of Harry Houdini's voice? (yes), and What did it sound like? (surprisingly high-pitched); and What caused the famous Tunguska Event of 1908? (most likely a sizable meteorite, or possibly a comet, though I'm partial to theories involving extraterrestrials).
The first things people usually notice about me
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
Both my job and my religion require that I go completely unnoticed.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Help your potential matches find common interests.
movies: Fargo, Blue Velvet, Mulholland Drive, City of God, Goodfellas, The Lives of Others, Junebug, Half Nelson, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Win a Date With Tad Hamilton!, Teen Wolf, that one about those guys who go around hunting ghosts and Bill Murray is in it but I can't remember what it's called but I'd totally know it if I heard it

books: A Visit from the Goon Squad, Perfume, The Goldfinch, The Secret History, Huckleberry Finn, The Great Gatsby, The Stranger, Me Talk Pretty One Day, The Pale King, Caleb Williams, The Life & Opinions of Tristram Shandy

tv: House of Cards, The Wire, Arrested Development, Six Feet Under, Carnivale, Flight of the Conchords, Twin Peaks, Taxi, Cheers, Small Wonder

music: Jane's Rehabilitation, Decimal Metaphor, The Narcoleptics, Bowie, Junior Boys, Little Dragon, Ted Leo, Neutral Milk Hotel, Pom Pom Deficit, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, Minor Threat, Black Flag, Champagne Suicide, Johnny Cash
The six things I could never do without
Think outside the box. Sometimes the little things can say a lot.
heroin, and five things I can sell to get more heroin
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Global warming, lunch, or your next vacation… it’s all fair game.
let's all just cool it with the mustaches.
On a typical Friday night I am
Netflix and takeout, or getting your party on — how do you let loose?
sorting over the pieces of my shattered psyche
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I’m an empty essay… fill me out!
In the checkout line, I hedge against the possibility of an incompetent grocery bagger by placing my items on the conveyor belt roughly in order from sturdiest to least sturdy, thereby reducing the chances that the delicate stuff will get crushed by the heavier stuff.
You should message me if
Offer a few tips to help matches win you over.
you lost a silver moon-shaped earring in my bed. I just found it there, and I know it's not mine. So message me if you want it back. (Update: ugh, just kidding!)