29 Dearborn, United States
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My self-summary
I'm not sure how summarize myself, so instead of writing things about how great I think I am at being a person
I had some friends write testimonials about what an upstanding citizen I am. This is what they wrote:

"Matt is always claiming he was in Vietnam. He's 29. There's no way he was in 'Nam. His dad wasn't even in 'Nam. Whenever he is in a forest, he claims it reminds him of the time he was in 'the war,' and proceeds to check for trip wire. He even went to a VFW meeting. He got thrown out. But, to be fair, he did it to a mason meeting too. The boy thinks that if he brings cookies he can pretty much go anywhere there's a meeting and they won't kick him out. Look out, Avon ladies. It's only a matter of time."

"He pistol whipped my kid, took him hostage, and used him as a human shield in a game of laser tag. LASER TAG! My son is nine years old."

"Matt is immune to every brand of mace available, including military grade used for crowd control. I'm not sure how he not only tested this, but obtained such high-grade material. I'm just certain it's not legal in any way. But he's proud of this to the point that it's how he answers his phone and starts any conversation. We met at a cemetery while I was mourning the loss of a loved one."

"I heard Matt say that he grew up in the Hamptons. I asked him if he wanted to go take a look at his childhood home, and he gave me a bewildered look. Then I asked him if he even knew where the Hamptons were. He asked what business it was of mine, and then implied that my mother was a prostitute!"

Well, my name is Matt
I'm an INTJ
I like to do typical things that typical people like to do...typically.

I wish some people called me the gangster of love...or, at the very least...Maurice? [maybe followed by a whistle sound?]
What I’m doing with my life
Just trying my best to raise my twenty-ish Tamagotchis in this crazy, mixed up world.
I’m really good at
The first things people usually notice about me
I'm not sure, but I frequently find myself saying, "Hey! My eyes are up here!"

My arms are too long for my body? I guess...

I'm a highly poised savage. But a fucking savage nonetheless.

I don't know what else to say, and to be honest I resent this question.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
My diet pretty much resembles whatever a fat raccoon would eat while rooting through the trash at a park.'s very much like Templeton from Charlotte's Web after the fair.

In no particular order:
Wes Anderson movies (Bottle Rocket), Documentaries about Vietnam and also the assassination of JFK, Hunter S. Thompson, Saves the Day, Elliott Smith, Descendents, The Queers, Alkaline Trio, Gaslight Anthem, Velvet Underground, The Gimme Gimmies, NOFX, Minus The Bear, Tom Petty, Fleetwood Mac, Alice in Chains, Gin Blossoms, The Menzingers, Beastie Boys, The Melvins, Bouncing Souls...and way more things.
The six things I could never do without
I spend a lot of time thinking about
My idea of an ideal first date/Dating in general:

So, maybe I pick you up and we go and have dinner somewhere bla bla bla. But afterward, maybe we go for a drive, just to converse and see some sights. Maybe I look away from the road for a minute because I get lost in how cute you are...or something dumb like that. BUT, in that split second, I run down a hobo. We get out of the car to check it out. You're a little freaked out because you've never seen a dead body before, but then I shake you a little to bring you back to reality. You finally calm the fuck down. We realize the hobo isn't completely dead. So, I bring out the Colt .45 I keep in my glove box...because needless to say, we can't just let him live. Mutually assured destruction, right? Anyway, I hand you the Colt. You're a little nervous because it's your first time. But I look into your eyes, and say, "Sweetheart, we'll do this together." So I put my hand over yours, and we both squeeze off a round into the hobo's head. Together. Then, we make a trip to Belle Isle, dump the body in the river, and that's when I notice the lights of the city reflecting off of your eyes. And that's when I kiss you for the first time. I guess you could say I'm a hopeless romantic.

Thoughts in general:

There's nothing sexier than a girl who says, "I know who FDR is, I know about the New Deal, and I'm going to give YOU a new deal." And then, over a period of years, she structures her sex acts in such a way that they save the economy.

I find it difficult to believe that a Q-tip company has never tried to use "Just the tip" as a slogan...

I think my spirit animal is meatloaf. Technically, this isn't an incorrect statement...
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I once fought a kite...and lost.

Also, a valuable piece of advice- the next time you try on a suit [or dress...considering a woman is probably reading this] at a fancy place make sure you plan that out instead of randomly marching into a place and yelling [with the intensity and enthusiasm of an overly-sugared child], "GIVE ME THE DON DRAPER!!!" Because the salesman, with much gusto, will hand you a very expensive Calvin Klein. Which is well and good, but make sure that hours before that you weren't cooking dinner while a six year old asks you ridiculous questions causing you to slip with a sharp knife and take a large chunk out of your index finger (and you don't believe in bandaids anyway so you figure "whatever, it'll just bleed until it doesn't bleed"). And before you randomly try on an expensive suit with a freshly clotted index finger wound, don't go and drink a ton of espresso... Which will inevitably cause you to get all jittery and shakey...causing the wound to open back up, thus bleeding all over the suit, thus causing you to inform the salesman that it was just an OK suit and you could probably find something better elsewhere...and then quickly get as far away from that place as possible, and avoid that area forever.
You should message me if
Do you at least have eyebrows? That's a great start! They don't even have to be "on fleek," you just have to have 'em...on your face! I mean, you wouldn't think they're an important detail...until one night you're on a date and they show up without them. Absolutely ZERO eyebrows. And you want to ask about the backstory behind it, but you also want to be polite. But still...was it a freak accident? Bonfire mishap? Did a cat die and they're grieving like an ancient Egyptian? Did she not even have time to stop by a Staples to purchase a fat Sharpie? Sadly, this is pretty much how a lot of my dates go.

If you'll be Janet Snakehole I'll be Burt Macklin. ; )