57 Pasadena, United States
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My self-summary
May we all find the person who is best for us, not just the person we want.

After extensive research, I have decided that only seven of you are good enough for me. The problem is that I am nowhere near being good enough for those seven. Such is the futility of misplaced expectations.

Window shopping at the moment. Read no further if you are offended by those who are not actively searching for their soulmate. If you are here because I "rated" you, I have to apologize for that. I only found out recently that you can see those ratings, at least I think you can, and my "rating" you is not meant to be a substitute for a PM. I thought it was a way for profiles that I liked to show up more often in others' searches. My bad. Also, my profile below says I'm looking for friends but I've come to the conclusion that I'm really not, I just have to have something checked there. See if I'm with an attractive female single "friend" I'm going to want to have sex with her even if I don't want a relationship and if I have sex with her I'm going to want a relationship and that's just not going to work out for me at present . . . it remains the life of the agnostic monk for me. So, unless you enjoy an occasional meaningless non sexual chat, stop reading. Most of what follows will just upset you.

Things you should know: First and most important, is that I have a rule that I will not sleep with you on the first date if I know there won't be a second. Second, and equally important, is that rules are made to be broken. I have never "reinvented myself". I don't know if that's good or bad. My feet, generally, don't stink. This may not seem important now but later it could be huge. I don't know how much I weigh, which is why I'm not fat. Yes, that does make sense. I can heel/toe. Yes, I am comfortable in jeans. No, I am not comfortable in a tux. I have a feeling the only people truly comfortable in tuxedos are a few waiters and maitre'des and then only because they get paid to wear them. Speaking of my sartorial prowess, I live in shorts and t-shirts when it's warm and jeans and long sleeve t-shirts when it's cold. Yup. Not a sharp dresser. I'm interested in everything but obsessed by nothing. I rarely drink. Champagne at celebrations is about it. I love a good dry champagne. I have never been to Burning Man, but I survived seven Halloweens in Isla Vista so I don't think I'm missing much. I received my undergraduate degree in biology knowing that I would never make a career of it. It just interested me. It would have been biochemistry but I just couldn't force myself to take p-chem because . . . I am fundamentally lazy. And yet, all my life I have managed to get things done. Can't figure that one out. Internet IQ tests assure me that I am brilliant. Or, at least I would be if I was willing to pay $39.95 for the results. I quit drinking starbucks everyday when I realized it was about a $3,000/year habit. A grande mocha in the morning and a vente frappuccino in the afternoon with a slice of lemon loaf every day really adds up. I like weddings. It's nice to see all that potential on display. Funerals, not so much. If I was rich I would buy WAY too many cars and guitars. I am chronically early because I hate to be late. I own only one suit now. Need it for the weddings and funerals. Thankfully, far more weddings at this point. I have a wide brimmed Stetson cowboy hat bought at a cowboy store in Cheyenne. But I am no cowboy and now it hangs on my wall, rarely worn, and then only around the house when I feel the need to bump into doorways. I like going to Las Vegas occasionally, but I like leaving Las Vegas more. I sometimes think I'm due a revelation. At least an epiphany would be nice. I am devastatingly handsome if you are irrationally attracted to men who look like me. No, I know what you are thinking, and I am neither medicated nor mentally ill. I have never had plastic surgery but if I had a mole the size of a dime on the center of my forehead I would definitely have it removed. My lack of vanity has its limits. I vote by candidate, not by party affiliation. My knees don't jerk to the left or the right but guide me unfailingly forward. I am rarely offended. Insults flow off, around, and past me like so much water down a gutter. Constructive criticism is welcome as long as it's not a constant stream. Everyone needs a break from self-realization and, if I really need so much work, why are you with me? Rhetorical question now, but one that has been asked in the past. I don't have, never have had, nor will I ever have, a head shot. I believe that, yes, people can change, at least until they get what they want, and then they can change right back. Think about that. It's happened to you more than once, hasn't it? Bastards. I can drywall and install hardwood floors and have been known to reshingle a roof. If you need plumbing or electrical work, seek a professional. Dogs and toddlers love me. The secret with both is not to try too hard. They will come over when they want to. I went to massage school briefly, until I realized I'd actually have to learn things like anatomy, bones, muscles, etc. I thought it was going to be all hot oil and elbows. My bad. I don't define you by what you do for a living or where you went to school. I sometimes feel like I have to save everyone and have to restrain myself and leave these things to professionals. I've learned to recognize and defend myself against energy vampires. You know, those perpetually down people who love nothing more than to pawn their depression off on you. I'd like to start my own cult, but mainly for the tax advantages. I believe that, yes, Dr. Laura can be a bitch, but man she is spot on quite often. I just lost the remaining three of you who have read this far, haven't I? I do not need to be completed as I am already whole and as far as I can tell missing no essential parts. Wouldn't mind someone to complement me though. I am great in bed. No really. I am. It's when someone joins me there that things get dicey. I believe that if you can't laugh when your partner farts then you're with the wrong person. Doesn't mean you can't get out until the air clears, but come on, that's funny. This is the fifth longest paragraphy I have ever written. I can beat you at sudoku. That's right, I said it. Bring it. You've been served. I've run out of cliches. I do crossword puzzles in pen. My first impressions of people are usually correct. Except that gaydar quiz. Only got 60 percent on that one, which may or may not be statistically significant. And the virgin quiz. I apparently am worse than chance at picking virgins. You could lie to me and I'd never know. I know what statistically significant means but have forgotten how to determine it. If I like your profile I will return to it repeatedly to see if you added or changed anything. Don't read too much into that. I just like clever writing and some of you are pretty damn amusing and/or interesting. I also return to profiles I like to look at the "similar users." I find those to be much more interesting than my quiver matches. I do not seek or require perfection in myself or in others. I can neither jump nor dance and if either is important to you then you will be disappointed. If nothing else, this affirms that, yes, some stereotypes are based in fact. I think myself far more clever than I really am. Please don't encourage this. I honk once to warn squirrels to get out of my way and twice at dead squirrels. It's my way of saying, "I told you so!" Seriously, I am not medicated and I wish you'd stop presuming that. I take yoga but don't hit on the teachers. That mid-life crisis passed me by. But if a yoga teacher ever hit on me, well, I'm only human. Hasn't happened yet though. Go figure. If your shirt is loose and/or flaps open, I will (as discreetly as I can) look down it. This proves something I have long suspected - my body has aged but my mind stopped maturing at 15. I have given umberellas to strangers who needed them. I will stop for lost dogs and try to reunite them with their loved ones. Speaking of dogs, I don't like pit bulls. I will still stop for a loose one but if it barks or growls at me I'm out of there and it's on its own. If you have a pit bull, well, thank all relevant deities that you're not really interested in me anyway because I will not have a pit bull around my kids. I'm a caninist. I'm prejudiced against the breed. I am more motivated to charitably give to disasters than to causes. I will never, ever, ever, EVER join a political party. It's like working in a bordello, sure it seems fun at first, but then you realize you're dealing mostly with dicks and assholes. I believe that all registered democrats should be required to read Harrison Bergeron and that all registered republicans should be required to take a basic college biology course. I believe that, if we are slaves to anything, it is to our DNA. I think I suffer from PTS - profile tourettes syndrome. I prefer stairs to elevators. I'm the guy passing you on the escalator. Seems pointless to stand on stairs, even if they're moving. In things of consequence I will tell you what I believe you need to hear. In inconsequential things I will generally tell you what you want to hear. Don't be surprised if I screw both up but be assured that I mean well. I have all my hair but will never dye it no matter how gray it gets. Look at Paul McCartney. You can't tell me he doesn't look ridiculous now. I scored 50 percent on the slut test here but, really, that test reflects my college days more than anything and I'm more of a monk now - though if I see "bisexual" in your profile my first thought is "threesome!!!" The self destructive part of me enjoys searching for my match by "enemy." Those email replies have been some of the best and, for those of you who suggested it, it is an anatonomical impossibility for me to place my head there. Another good one was the email in which I was lambasted for wasting the writer's time because I'm not serious about finding someone. And yet she spent precious time castigating me. Whew. Glad THAT one didn't work out. This is now officially the fourth longest paragraph I have ever written.

I hide from Jehovah's Witnesses. Not cowardly hiding but I'm done arguing mythologies with people. I just let my dog bark at them. I could answer the door and argue with their delusions, but what's the point in that? And it's not just JWs, it's any proselytizers. No reason to make any one feel bad and if walking door to door trying to save "souls" makes them happy, more power to them. I just no longer choose to participate, for good or ill. I stopped gradually. I used to have spirited discussions, most of their points coming from the bible, most of mine coming from pointing out the circular reasoning of proving the truth of the bible by quoting the bible. Then I just got polite and told them I wasn't interested. This, actually, seemed to upset them more, which was really not my goal. When told they would pray for me, I used to ask for me specifically or lumped in with the other non-believers. Eventually I just thanked them for their kind thoughts. At which point I was accused of being patronizing, which was not my intent. Like I said. I just don't answer the door anymore. My dog says everything that needs to be said. Good dog.

I won't tolerate intolerance. If you are at either political extreme, I'm talking about you. I have enough views for both sides to hate and if you can't agree to disagree on some things then I'm not the guy for you. I'm not anyway, but I felt like making that point. And, yes, you die hard progressives are just as bad as you die hard tea partiers. Seriously. When you're going off on how evil the other side is, stop a second, take a deep breath, and look in a mirror. Jeez. got myself worked up on that one. Now I have to go find a kitten to hold for a few minutes to calm down.

I no longer hate rap. At least not all rap. My son keeps buying the stuff and it ends up in my iTunes and during a recent long distance drive he forced me to listen to Mr. Mathers and a few other, um, artists and I have to say - it didn't all suck. There's actually some good "songs" in there. As you can tell by the quotation marks, I am not yet totally accepting of the genre. But, as long as he sticks to the non- misogynistic, non-drug glorifying, non-violence promoting rap (and yes, there is some of that) I won't scream for him to change the track.

Thinking about pics. If I ever post any here they will be selfies and/or mirror shots and you can bet your ass I will have a goofy grin on my face because I will feel ridiculous doing it. I'll leave my shirt on too. Trust me. It's for the best. First time you see me without a shirt on I want your thoughts to run along the lines of, "ah, what the hell, I'm here anyway . . . "

Am I the only one who thinks he isn't good enough for 93 percent of the women on here? Holy crap you guys are over achievers! I mean, where do you have the time to direct a movie, star as the prima ballerina in Swan Lake, judge a blind wine tasting, and jet off to Monte Carlo for the weekend? Yes, I know, I'm exaggerating. A bit. But jeezus! I couldn't keep up with half that when I was twenty five and now that I am, well, slightly over twice that let's say, just reading the profiles wears me out. Maybe it's due to the internet. Like the US got a good start because the people who came over here at first HAD to be the adventurous hardy self sufficient type. If they weren't, they died. Same with the internet, minus the death part. But I mean, wow. If any of you find a man who can keep up with you grab him and hang the hell on because I sure couldn't.

I just read in a profile that a member was looking for a man who "acted like his mama raised him right." That got me thinking. I didn't use to. But then my daughter was born. So, while I still don't always act like my mom might like me to, I do my best to act in ways my daughter would approve and be proud of. Less so my son. He's still a pig but we are making progress (his sister and I) in beating that out of him. Figuratively beat, not literally, though sometimes I'm tempted. That train may have left the station though. He's bigger, stronger, and tougher than I am. Sometimes I hate him. I want to be that young and stupid again!

I just realized if I ever get serious about dating I'm going to have to assume a new identity and completely rewrite this thing. As it stands, you now know just about everything about me and you'd have to be nuts to want to meet me based on this profile.
What I’m doing with my life
Retired because I chose the right profession years ago and stuck with it. I live a life of idle mediocrity. I know! Sounds terrible! But what I mean is that I will never have a Porsche or that Audi S5 I'd love to have, at least not until the kids are out of college, and then a walker with tennis balls on the end might be more appropriate. I just keep sounding better and better, don't I? Ok, back to the main points. Raising my two kids (they live with me), running the dog, exercising the mind, and rarely taking myself too seriously. Here's part of that revelation I've been waiting for: me, two kids still at home; you, kids out of the house. Me, still making lunches and driving to sports practices after school. You, planning that wine tasting trip to Napa. Me, helping with homework. You, enjoying the music at coachella or the scene at burning man. The timing just isn't that good right now, is it?
I’m really good at
Realizing someone is Russian based solely on her pictures. Seriously. I have a bad habit of going to the pics first (horrible thing for someone who doesn't even post pics to do, I admit) and EVERY time I've thought to myself, "Russian . . . " I've been right. I'd tell you how I know but then you'd accuse me of profiling. Which I am. Speaking of pics, OkCupid has recently ruined my window shopping. Seems I can't look at all your pictures unless I post my own. What to do, what to do . . . Well, still not ready to inflict myself on the internet so I will have to make do with the three thumbnails I'm allowed. Hey, at least I don't post phony pics to see yours. Using exclamation points!!!!!! Figuring out software. I'm a decent guitar player. Putting Legos together. Assembling Ikea furniture minus the directions. Parallel parking. I just parked in a tight spot on Lake street in front of Corner Bakery and the people dining there broke into applause at the mastery of it. Ok, they didn't, but they should have, it was that good, did it the first time, front wheels two inches from the curb, perfectly straight, no backing or adjusting, just perfect. Yup. Perfect. Sigh. It just doesn't get any better than that. Brushing my teeth. Washing the sheets. Baking simple yeast breads. Changing strings. Finding milk with the latest expiration date. Oh!!! (see, exclamation points, not too many but strategically placed). Shopping tip. Supermarkets (even TJ's) usually put the freshest perishables in the back with the oldest out front. Hey, you may have known it forever but I just discovered that a couple of months ago. Passing by McDonalds. Trust me. That's big for me now. Playing the occasional internet troll. Spotting the fake OkCupid profiles with guys posing as women. The wide age range (like 28 to 75) coupled with the sexy pictures are the most obvious of these. It's amazing how persistent scammers can be and what tragic lives they can invent when they want money. Guys (who aren't even reading this) if you are in so deep that you are considering sending money to someone who always has a very good reason for not meeting, you are being scammed. Apologizing when wrong. Owning up to, taking responsibility for, and fixing my mistakes. Falling asleep at night. Five minutes and I'm out. Microwaving baked potatoes. Programing the DVR. Seeing movies and discussing them somewhat intelligently afterwards. Being a gentle smart ass. Cleaning small wounds and applying band aids. Waking up happy. Minor bicycle repair. Not panicking. Doing things I shouldn't be able to do. For example, I ordered speakers and a new stereo for my beater car and installed them myself. And what's so hard about that? Hey, you do it. I had to make my own spacers for the speakers, modify the dash, install new tweeters in the doors (including cutting the holes which is terrifying - measure three times, cut once in this instance). Yup. Bought me some MDP, for the speaker spacer, made a template, cut those bad boys out with my handy jig saw, did about another seven completely unnecessary because no one will ever see them once the door panels are put back on but still satisfying cosmetic steps. But they fit PERFECT. Yes, capitalized perfect, the template was that good. Making cheesecake. Stream of consciousness profile writing. Recognizing temptation, avoiding when prudent, succumbing when harmless.
The first things people usually notice about me
How tall I'm not. How short I'm not. How devoted I am to my kids. How I could really use a haircut. About that last one - I was just looking at some long distance pictures of me and, based on the hair, I thought I looked like a fairly unattractive old woman. Ouch. Got the haircut. Now I look like a fairly neutral looking older man. Whew. What a relief. How emotionally unavailable I am to women who show interest in me as anything more than a friend. My gigantic tallywhacker. How completely honest I am about everything except my tallywhacker. The fact that I am one of the few people on the internet to actually use the word "tallywahacker". How I smell faintly of fabric softener but never of cologne. How I start out slow but gain speed quickly in many things. How I keep adding to this profile for no apparent reason. How I believe that, even when stuck at the bottom of the deepest hole, there is a way to eventually climb out. How I can always find a decent parking spot but always end up in the slowest check out line. Seriously. I can get in the express checkout and the person in front of me with only three items will write a check which will be rejected and then their credit card will be rejected and the manager will be called and after a conference they'll put the beer back and the process will repeat until they finally try to pay for a pack of cigarettes with food stamps only to be rejected yet again and leave in a huff and then the cashier will go on break and the new cashier will have to check in and have a two minute conversation with the bag boy. This really happened. At Albertson's. More than once, though the details changed. But I had good parking spots, so it evens out.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
2016 Academy Awards Edition: Spotlight? Best picture? Really? Why? Heavy handed and manipulative down to the music. Mediocre film making at best. Haven't seen Brooklyn or Mad Max yet, but every single one of the other nominees were better. Wait. Except The Revenant. Beautifully filmed gorgeous movie but holy shyte (SPOILER ALERT) Leo survives a fall off a cliff with his horse by falling into a tree particularly after he was recently mauled horribly by a grizzly? Really? Huh. Didn't know they had super heroes back then. And best actor? Not even close. Tom Hardy was waaaaaay better. The spy in Bridge of Spies - much better. Liked The Big Short a lot. It out Scorsesied Scorcese but without the soft porn (talking about WofWW here. I mean, don't get me wrong, Margot Robbie is incredibly beautiful but come on). Room was good but (SPOILER ALERT) that keypad? Four numbers. 10k possibilities. She could have been out in a day or two. Bridge of Spies I enjoyed very much but a little too Frank Capra. Need to order Brooklyn.

While this doesn't really belong here I just have to say: Helen Mirren is the most attractive woman on Earth. At least the most attractive I have seen. I don't mean beauty, there are more beautiful women in the world. BUT! Based on what little I know of her if I could choose one woman to spend the rest of my life with she would be a lot like Helen Mirren. Just not famous. Or married. Ok, back to your regularly scheduled question.

Been on a foreign movie kick recently. Just watched City of God, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Malena, and Blue is the Warmest Color. Loved them all (Malena slightly less than the others). Blue was a little long and at first I thought the 42 minute lesbian sex scene was too long (I know, that goes under things real men never say) but in the end I realized it was necessary. Great movie. Also watched In Bruges. Loved it. Good dark humor.

I got a kindle recently and, cheapskate that I am, I've been looking and reading mostly public domain books. Much to my surprise I find that I am loving The Brothers Karamazov. All my life I have avoided the "big" books like the proverbial plague and now I am ashamed of my willful ignorance. The Count of Monte Cristo is another one I just read for the first time. Couldn't get through Frankenstein. Maybe I was spoiled by the movie (the Mel Brooks one) but, man, that book is boring.

If you could see my blu ray collection you would be both horrified and fascinated by my high and low taste in film. Fratboy humor resting side by side with Bergman. Kurosowa next to StarWars. Bourne beside the River Kwai. Won't watch horror or gratuitous violence. Wait. That's a lie. I watch Mr. Tarentino's stuff and I really really wish he'd stay the hell out of his own films. He can direct, but he cannot act. Didn't enjoy Django all that much. He should have KillBilled it and made it two films (SPOILER ALERT) the first about learning to be a bounty hunter and the next about going to find his wife. As it was the movie just didn't know what it wanted to be. Alas, I blame the death of his longtime editor. It would have been a much better film if she had been involved. Oh, cruel cruel death. Books, well, I've lost patience with books over the years. I know, heresy, but I've become too critical of writers recently and need to step back. I've started easing myself back in with some Salinger short stories and my kindle as I sit on the crapper. Sorry. You didn't need that image, did you? See, this is why I don't post pics. First time we met that's what you'd be thinking of. Me sitting on the toilet reading Salinger. Not the best mental image over dinner. Anyway. Some past favorites were McGuane, Marquez, Kennedy, Didion. Went through a Hemingway phase during college, but now find him contrived. Huckleberry Finn is always a joy to read. I'll go back and read Phillip K and Zelazny every now and then. Love Dune and Lonesome Dove. Roth, Vonnegut, the usual suspects. TV? Not so much. Not a snob about it, just not a whole lot on that catches or keeps my interest. Food. I eat to live, I don't live to eat, though I can fake it well enough at a nice restaurant. I once aspired to be a whiskey snob (single malts only, please) but failed miserably. I like a cube of ice in my whiskey. Such heresy is not allowed.

Here's some movies to judge me by: Amelie, Memento, Pan's Labyrinth, The Fifth Element, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Unforgiven, Billy Elliot, The Usual Suspects, The Seventh Seal, Chinatown (though I wish it wasn't, detesting Polanski as much as I do), The Dark Knight, Everything by the Coen Bros (I mean that. Everything), Army of Darkness, Bubba Ho-Tep, Blade Runner, Almost anything by Kubrick (even Kidman nude wasn't enough to hold my interest in Eyes Wide Shut), Casablanca, MP and the Holy Grail, Godfathers I and II, Donnie Darko, the Bourne Movies (Jason Bourne is the only man I would ever consider going gay for. Not Matt Damon. Jason Bourne, the character. Actually, scratch that. Clive Owen too. Luckily for me, I doubt he's attracted to 54 year old single dads with SUVs. I think he can do better than me), Ratatouille, Patton, The Reader, Tombstone, The Wrestler, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Being John Malkovich, October Sky, The Hurt Locker, The Princess Bride, Inglorious Basterds, Pulp Fiction, Kick Ass (just a really fun/dumb movie). The Descendants, Prometheus, Harold and Maude, The Dark Knight Rises . . . not so much. Too many plot holes.

Another reason I may keep coming back to your profile and yet never contact you: some of you have great taste in film and music and I've discovered quite a few gems in your profiles. Thank you!
The six things I could never do without
With some obvious glib exceptions, there is nothing I could not do without. But there are people I love whose absence would make life bleak. Everything else is optional.

Here's a couple of things I COULD do without but would rather not:

Reading glasses. Yup. That stage of life. Could be worse. Could be "Depends".

My 35 year old Guild D-40. Bought it new and have had it ever since. Other guitars have come and gone but this is a keeper. Beat up but still sounds great. Just had the neck reset and plays now like it used to.

iMac. Getting close to needing a new one but I'm hoping Apple relents and puts in a touch screen.

Internet porn. Hey, I'm celibate at this point, you want me to explode? Listen, if a single guy tells you he doesn't look at porn he either has completely lost his sex drive (stay away from him) or he is lying to you. Don't worry though. Nothing too kinky. Unless you like kinky. Then we should talk.

2000 Nissan Maxima. You laugh but you shouldn't. This car was a recent gift to me and only has 70k original miles and runs like butter. Or like butter would run if it was a car and the car had legs. It's old and unimpressive until you get in and turn it on and get on the freeway. Pure smooth hell in a package a grandma would love. It's me stealthmobile. Clean, mean, and a cup holder for my caffeine. This car is the equivalent of how I dress, the jeans and t-shirt of the auto world. Yes. I love a car. An older car. It's a geriautoric love. Judge me if you want. (update - close to 120k on that thing and still going strong. Bought my son a new Civic recently but I'm keeping my beater.)
I spend a lot of time thinking about
The Earth's magnetic field and what would happen if it disappeared. How all elements heavier than carbon on earth and in our bodies were formed in the heart of an exploding sun. Seriously. I should stop watching Nova. The cost of college. Whether I should buy a Martin even though I already have too many guitars. Ok, one more never hurts. Just bought an American Deluxe Telecaster. My new favorite. How I should have been a rock star but am kind of glad I wasn't. Random things. How good hot water feels in the shower on a cold morning and how wonderful cold water feels in the shower on a hot day. How I used to hate to shave every day and now, when I don't have to, how I hate to NOT shave. Why all the great ideas I come up with have already been patented. How boring patent searches can be. Why I should have gratitude sex with you just because you bought me an expensive dinner and took me to a sold out show. I guess that will depend on the seats. Why I am intimidated reading your profile but at complete ease in person. The universe has already decided how much we will like each other, if at all, and how long we will last, as long as it takes for a cup of coffee or a drink or until death do us part or anywhere in between (by "universe" I don't mean any kind of sentient or purposeful entity, rather that we are all doomed to act in a predetermined way under the illusion of free will. I know. Depresses me too.). Why is it ok for women to post bikini shots here but women object to men without shirts? If I ever post a pic I think it will be of me in a bikini. Hey, it might work. I may have moobs. Then again I may not. But I could always stuff the bra part. With beef jerky. That way if I got hungry I'd have easy access to salty, artery clogging food. How perfect is that? How I never made it to six foot and why it still upsets me. Why no one bothered telling Keith Richards that he's been dead for at least twelve years. Come on, admit it, you could plunk him in the middle of any zombie movie without the benefit of make up and he'd fit right in. I think about that which we call, for lack of a better word, god. For some reason the Atheist test labeled me an "ardent" atheist, but I'm really more of an agnostic. What I'm pretty sure of though is that everyone who has ever tried to define or codify god got it wrong.

How the hell am I going to come up with 30k a year for college for my daughter? Apparently financial aid comes in the form of loans now. Arg. Oh well. Rice and beans for a while. Actually, it's not that bad. I've saved quite a bit for this very possibility so there will be an occasional chicken breast. But, yes, this is what I'm thinking about now. Arg. Double arg.

Latest thing to think about: There I was at my son's basketball tournament in Las Vegas, standing outside watching the lightning from a summer storm, when a young woman working the tournament who couldn't have been more than twenty two came up, asked me where I was from, and after I told her started telling me about how she was coming to LA in a week to try to start a modeling career. She was model tall, model thin, and model beautiful but the conversation was really strange - about how she needed a place to stay but didn't want to spend more than 100 a night and was my wife (she should have asked about the ex) who wasn't even there a model and it was all very weird. What the hell happened there? There was more to it but I kept on feeling like she was trying to get me to ask her to stay with me in LA. Was she just trying to save money by rooming with a stranger? Was I being hit on? And, if so with me standing there in my ratty costco shoes, target cargo shorts, and threadbare (but extremely comfortable) shirt, was I the object of some unnatural and unholy elder lust? Or was I merely a mark in preparation of being drugged and rolled? Well now, if I was a younger man with fewer children (like none) I might have taken a chance but . . . was that weird? Am I being paranoid? Just didn't feel right. So, I gave her a few recommendations on where to stay and went inside to watch the games. Age has ruined me. Twenty years ago I would have just assumed I was being hit on and I would either wake up in bed with a potential model or wake up in the gutter with my watch and wallet missing and a huge headache or maybe not wake up at all. Anyway. Good information this. This here guy can turn down opportunities to make a fool of himself or get himself killed. That's rare these days. Look at Anthony Weiner. No, not Anthony's weiner, Anthony Weiner. Actually, I guess if you're looking, it's probably both. I admit it. I looked. I was not impressed.
On a typical Friday night I am
Driving my kids places, picking them up later. Occasionally, like tonight, flipping through profiles and answering questions to see what your answers were. That's why I've answered so many. I know. It kind of creeps me out too.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I'm shallow. And, the worst part is, I think that being able to admit I'm shallow makes it somehow OK for me to be shallow or paradoxically makes me NOT shallow. Not deep by any means, just not shallow. For example - sometimes I just want to get laid, and if I could do it with no repercussions or regrets I would. But I can't so I don't. Ok, that's really not that shallow when I think about it. Actually, that's pretty damn decent of me in the same sense that people who don't rob banks are decent. What was my point? Who the hell knows. Anyway . . .

It's not me, it's you. Seriously. If you were what I wanted then there wouldn't be a problem. And vice versa. If you're not attracted to me then of COURSE it's me that's the problem - at least from your perspective. Or, we could just split the difference and say "it's not either of us, it's both of us." That's probably closer to the truth than anything.

I think I've shrunk but I'm too afraid to check.

I use okcupid as therapy. There. I said it. I like talking "out loud" here. I've discovered a few things about myself here so don't go getting interested. If I tried to meet you at this time in my life it would just be to get laid. Now, before you get offended by that, consider that I'm not trying to meet you. At least not now. And when I'm ready, I will still be trying to get laid. But regularly. And by just one person. Preferably female. And for a long time. Ok, who am I kidding, definitely female.

Ok, who wants to hear about my recent colonoscopy? Anyone? Show of hands? Good. Here goes. While I do not normally brag about my pics, I have to say that the interior of my, um, nether regions is clear of anything worth worrying about, and for some reason the doctor supplied me with the pics of the procedure to prove it. And after the meds I took in prep for the buttcam, I suppose it's safe to say the area was clear of absolutely anything. Next one they say in ten years. Hey, come on, I'm pushing 55. One less thing for you to worry about in a man. Yup. I got me one clean colon.

I just switched from an iPhone 5 to the android universe. Apple has been upsetting me lately. Too little too late all the time. God I miss Steve. Sure, he was a jerk, but he was MY jerk. That really didn't sound right, but I think you know what I mean. Anyway, got myself an HTC-One and, after a few weeks of confusion, I really like it. It was hard giving up the self contained apple universe but once I did I realized how limiting it had been. Still, if Apple ever makes an iTunes for Android, I'll put that on for sure. I will wait and see what they do with the 6 when it comes out but until then, Apple has (partially) lost my business. At least my phone business. Still love me some iMac. (update: not impressed with he 6. Waiting now for the 7)

Someday in the distant future, once the kids are out of college, I shall have that new Corvette. Apparently I recently developed a small penis, because I never wanted a Corvette before, but that C7 is pretty enough that I can live with losing three or four inches of my manhood as long as I can subsidize it with three or four Corvette Equivalent Inches (CEIs for future reference).

I can't dance. I don't want to dance. I dread being asked to dance. I will dance if there is no way out of it. I'm one of those shuffling feet slow dancers who just desperately tries not to step on your toes. If dancing is your life and in your soul and you require that of a match you will be sorely disappointed in me. If dancing is 1.83 percent or less of your life we could probably work it out. Here's another embarassing thing about me - I can't stop watching Downton Abbey. Formulaic, predictable, why can't I stop watching? I'm a bit ashamed of this one: I won't contact you if I find a friend of yours in your picture to be more attractive than you. That's just a bad way to start something. I know, shallow, but I'm deep enough to see it. So I'm medium shallow and average deep. Or something. Never mind. If you emphasize your breasts in your profile if we meet I'm going to do my best to charm you to see them as quickly as I can. I mean see them unchained, loose, free, as nature intended. I'm a sucker for advertising you see. I'm not always present. My mind can wander at times. I'm a bad drunk. That's why I never have more than one or two anymore and then rarely. Not the beating dogs, women, and children kind of "bad," I'm the say whatever comes to mind without the benefit of any kind of intelligent filtering kind of drunk. Which led to a few fights back in college, yes, but in my defense, I never threw the first punch though I have to say that I deserved having a few of those punches thrown. Anyway, if you like to go out and have a few drinks with your guy on more than an occasional basis my lack of drinking will seriously cramp your style and you will soon begin to interpret my silence and/or sobriety as tacit disapproval of your sodden, drunken, toilet hugging debauchery. Yes I know. If I write this kind of stuff sober, imagine how bad I'd be drunk. See? That's what I mean. Bad drunk.
You should message me if
You really shouldn't. I would bore the hell out of those of you that rock climb, sky dive, race motorcycles, etc. Looking over so many of your profiles and seeing what you want and expect (things that you SHOULD want and expect) I realize that, at this point in my life with two kids still at home, I am incapable of giving you these things or taking what you have to offer and I am no longer that selfish. So, I am not yet for you. However, in six years or so, if you are still interested, read on . . .

You don't care what kind of car I drive (though it's ok to care if it's clean). See, I was chatting with someone on here and the subject of cars came up and when I mentioned that I was driving a 2000 Nissan with only 72k miles on it this person was, like, horrified. Seriously. I wouldn't use "like" in that sentence if I wasn't, like, serious. Anyway, she focused on the wrong thing - the car's age. What she SHOULD have been amazed at was the low mileage. I love that car. I change the oil myself and a whole bunch of other minor maintenance (I just installed new hydraulic hood struts - bought them off eBay, saved myself probably sixty dollars doing it myself and had fun doing it) and, as long as I change the fluids regularly, I could get up to 200k or more on it. Now that's impressive. No? You too, eh? Dammit. Ok, moving on . . . You are not obsessed with youth - meaning you don't feel a compulsive need to look like you're seventeen or twenty seven or thirty seven (unless you are those ages and the first one please don't email me for at least a year). You do not have narcissistic personality disorder. This, of course, is not going to stop anyone with NPD because they can never see it in themselves. I know I can't. You have not had obvious cosmetic (meaning not reconstructive, but for vanity) surgery. I want someone who doesn't worry about a few wrinkles or a sag here and there (if applicable). I mean, if you can bounce a quarter off your abs, more power to you, because I can't. I can bounce a basketball off mine but that's about it. No, really. My son did it once. While I was asleep. Good thing the little bastard is faster than me. I apologize if this offends, but if every time I look at you I think of Nip/Tuck it wouldn't work out anyway so best not to waste either of our time. Few of my other answers outraged or offended you (read on, there's more to be offended about below). You found my stupid profile amusing. If you have children, they will always be at least as important - preferably more so - than I am in your life. At least until they are out of the house and legitimately on their own. Because if you need someone to obsess about you night and day to the exclusion of anything else, that's not me. If I receive two emergency calls at the same time for the same kind of thing from you and from one of my kids, I'm going to rescue my kid. If you wouldn't do the same thing for your child, we are not meant to be. Eventually, this will apply to my grandkids too. I am loyal first to my DNA and would hope you are too. Really. We can both take care of ourselves and, if we break up, I'm going to want my kids and grandkids to know that I ALWAYs value them, not just when I'm single. You are physically fit. You don't have to be a professional athlete or yoga instructor, but you should be able to handle five or six flights of stairs. You like dogs and you don't mind my kids and all the problems that come with them. You were honest about your age here. I don't care so much about the number but I do care about you being secure with yourself. In that vein, you also don't have anything in your profile about how "you don't need a man" or "you don't need a man's approval" or anything similar that gives the impression that you are itching for a fight. Because I'm not. Itching. For a fight. And the label on the bottle tells me that other itching should go away soon. If it ever got that far, you wouldn't mind a pre-nup. Yes, I know, that's a dealbreaker, but think about it. The time to decide who gets what is when you are still in love, not after you hate each other because one of you had an affair with a Swedish masseuse/masseur at the country club and paid with your credit card. That didn't happen, at least not to me. Just an example of why you might not want your ex to get anything. You are willing to discuss sex before it happens. I don't mean sextalk/sexting I mean talking about what you want/expect/need etc. This isn't so much for me as it is for you. Men rarely if ever regret a sexual experience (STDs of course being the exception) but don't you think you'd like to know about my collection of butt plugs in assorted colors to match the vinyl outfits I expect you to wear before I trot out the display case? I don't really have a collection mind you, just an example of why you would want at least an idea as to sexual compatibility before you make the beast with two backs. Think about it. Have you ever had sex with someone and then he didn't call you back? Sure, he's a jerk either way, but what if the underlying reason is that your playstyle didn't match his. I mean, if I don't find out you're unwilling to do that, um, one thing I really really like - and do it because you enjoy it - until AFTER we've had sex the first time, well, that will kind of put a damper on things, wouldn't it? Reverse our positions and tell me if you don't feel the same way. No, seriously, reverse our positions. Yes, THAT one thing. Anyway, sexual incompatibility might be good to know about before you put on your cleats and go out to play if you know what I mean. You don't mind honesty. Within limits. I will lie to you about whether the pants make your butt look fat (think about it though: if you have a fat butt, then yes, if no, then no) but I won't lie to you about important things. Look at my profile. No sugar coating here. You don't have unreasonable expectations or think you can or should change anyone. If you have to change someone to love them, then you're not really loving the real person, are you? You're loving the person they pretend to be. I've tried that. It's horrible. I will never do that again. I'd rather be alone than wearing clothes I hate and attending rallies for candidates or causes I could care less about to fool you into loving something I'm not. Anyway. Personal baggage there. Slipped out. But important enough to leave in. I just realized I'm like your gay best friend that's telling you all the things about the man you should want because he can get away with it. Honesty has both rewards and penalties. And, um, this is kind of sensitive, but what the hell: if your instagram is full of selfies, it's probably not going to work out only because I can compete with other men for your affection but if I have to compete with you too . . . that's one I will never win.

So. I'm pretty much out by this point. But . . . here's some more unasked for advice for when you look at other profiles or meet someone from here: I understand you may have a laundry list of what your ideal man should be, but you should realize that if you wait for the 6'4" yoga practicing, Kafka reading, Picasso appreciating, orchestra conducting, gourmet cooking, wine discerning, professional grade tango dancing, world traveling, surgeon with the thick blonde hair and the chiseled abs, well, you might just end up 84 years old with seven cats because there are 72,658 women ahead of you all waiting for that same one guy. Shouldn't a decent man who makes you smile be enough?