This profile no longer to tries very hard to tell you who I really am. I do want you to know who I really am, but when I realized that the better way to do that is with match answer comparisons and comments, this profile was rewritten to be more fun.
So for best results, read through this, and then if I’ve caught your attention, go to the section currently called The Two of Us to look at our match questions. I’ve put lots and lots of explanations in there, so you’ll find out how I feel about your body odour and what happened the first time I had a meal that didn’t come out of a boobie.
One serious thing to get out of the way: Nanako has been my girlfriend for a number of years and will be for many more. She is now living in Japan, but our relationship was open even before that. If you don’t like the idea of open relationships, or if you’re uncomfortable dating a man who will always have a more important woman in his life, you can save yourself some time and stop reading.
Conventions used in the text
Some of these profile prompts I just don’t like, or I’m bored with them. Some of these profile prompts I will ignore and replace with whatever the hell I want.
The ninth Sikh Guru, Tegh Bahadur. He’s probably the only religious leader in history to be martyred for someone else’s faith. In 1675 when India’s Muslim regime was forcefully converting the Kashmiri Hindus, he said they should convert if he did. Then he offered himself up and was tortured and killed with his faith intact.
Tuvan throat singing. Well, not really, because I don’t know the Tuvan lanaguage or any Tuvan music, but the basic technique I’ve got down. It helps to have studied academically both resonant subtractive synthesis and the mathematical model of the vocal tract. (But not as much as it helps to like singing in the bathtub, with parallel tiled walls making a resonant frequency you could stub your toe on.) Also, I’m almost what I would call good at playing didgeridoo. I need to practice my circular breathing.
Passing as a Goth. I’m neither tortured nor terribly cynical (at least not at my core), but I love the style, the people, and the music.
Holding my tongue when I strongly disagree with strangers or passing acquaintances. You can call this a failing if you like; I don’t mind. The funny thing is, this has become less default and more of a true accomplishment over the years, as my own certainty in my opinions has solidified. Is it possible that by the time I’m a senior it will have all crystallized immovably, and I’ll be a raging assbasket?
Inventing profane insults that are just too silly to give offense, like assbasket. Other favorites include craptaker, and especially cocksnacker.
Look, the first thing you’re going to notice is that I’m hot. This has been testified by too many women for me to deny it, though I’m still not used to it. But the next thing you’ll notice is that in mixed company I’m a little withdrawn and fidgety, so what good does that do? We should both be more concerned with my defining characteristics that you’ll discover if you get past all of that.
You’ll find that I’m old-fashioned. I listen to crooners from the 1940s and 1950s and sigh that we just don’t write songs like those any more. I think about the days when it was okay for your kids to get discipline and moral lessons from their teachers and the entire town, not just at home, and I sigh about that too. My flannel footy pajamas with a fireman’s flap are among my most prized possessions. (Really, it took years
I’m methodical, to a noteworthy degree. Not, like, to a degree you’re going to find in the DSM-IV, but I do thrive on my own sort of ritual. And yet you’ll also discover that I’m hella whimsical, and I’m at my best (or at least my most “me”) when I can express both at the same time. The canonical example of this is how I organize my socks. All my socks have names so they can use the buddy system to avoid being lost in the wash. Today is Vera on the left and Vauxhall on the right. The sock thing goes way beyond that, but space does not permit the entire orthodoxy to be laid out here. Ask me if you dare.
Finally, picture a cow. Got it? Now put sunglasses on her. That’s silly, right? Now put a fez on her. That’s how silly I am almost all the time when I’m in “safe company” and a good mood. If you get me to this point, you win, but I might not make it easy for you.
Larry Gonick’s Cartoon History series is outstanding. He’s clear, accurate, balanced, and occasionally hilarious. It makes a wonderful gift for the smart kid in your life.
I’m also fond of Howard Zinn’s classic, A People’s History of the United States. It explores episodes from the nation’s saga each as a struggle of some sort, and tries to tell the untold story of each loser.
Favorite movies with no characters, plot, or dialogue
Koyaanisqatsi and Powaqqatsi. I think there is an awful lot of perspective to be gained from examining the very familiar on wildly different scales of space and/or time. And Philip Glass’s music is breathtaking.
Any that include a bathtub. I have a blackbelt in bath-taking.
Favorite cover songs that subvert the original’s tone
Peggy Lee in a duet with herself on “Sisters”. This comes across as subtly insane when you think about it.
The gentle cover by Gary Jules and Michael Andrews of “Mad World”, originally by Tears for Fears. Yes, that’s the one they used in the ads for Gears of War, but I’m not going to hold it against them.
The Cure’s “Love Song” as covered by riot grrrls Jack Off Jill. Robert Smith did not mean for “I will always love you” to sound so angry.
And above all, Tom Waits’s grimy, monotonous song that you won’t even realize until it’s half over is “Heigh Ho” from Snow White.
5: A nice brown ale with no hops.
4: A nice crisp lager with no hops.
3: A nice black stout with no hops.
2: A slightly dirty martini made with Dogfish Head Jin [sic]. And make it a sesquibble.
1: Super-peaty Islay Scotch. I want to smell it and think there’s a bog on fire somewhere.
1. Half a medicine cabinet: toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, antacid, aspirin, multi-vitamins, contact case and solution, condoms, lip balm, bandages, antibacterial gunk, hand lotion.
2. Ear plugs. I got tired of forgetting to bring them to concerts, clubs, and gun ranges. Wadded up toilet paper is surprisingly effective, but very ghetto.
3. A fleece hat that looks like My Neighbor Totoro. I can’t tolerate a cold head, and I can’t tolerate not looking like an adorable cuddly giant critter.
4. A block of magnesium, flint, and steel. Man make fire. Man make fire that burn at 2,255 Kelvin. Take that, two sticks!
5. A strongly-encrypted USB drive with essential portable apps on it, including a copy of Firefox hacked to allow password saving on any site.
6. A cigarette lighter with Linux installed. You heard me.
Making coffee. My office has one of those ingeniously convenient Keurig machines, with the single-serving K-cups. I won’t touch the thing. Tastes like water, and not even ballsy water. I make a pot of fresh-ground French roast in a French press every morning, and sometimes a cappuccino in the afternoon. I do not fuck around with my coffee.
Shaving. This is a nine-step process that takes approximately an hour including the shower (which is why, despite how seriously I take it, you should not be surprised to see me unshaven). By the way, if any men are reading this, or any women who want to pass it on to their men, I cannot strongly enough recommend the value of double-edged safety razors. They shave better, but moreover cost much, much less in the long run than the products of the Gillette/Schick arms race.
Writing an email. Yes, I won’t lie, this is both a subtle hint to you and an excuse for why my messages may be slightly infrequent and very long. It also explains why I may have added you to my favorites days ago and not written yet. You can always try to kick me loose by writing yourself.
Liking to hang out in “dive bars” when you live in Manhattan. There are no dive bars in Manhattan, not one. Are these people walking into an Irish pub and calling it a dive bar because there’s no DJ? If you want to see a dive bar, try the one across from the Bethpage train station, just down the street from my office. This is where regulars (and they’re all regulars) will kick you off the pool table, because everyone knows this is when they play. I do not seek this experience.
Long, run-on lists for the “Favorites” prompt.
Poor spelling, punctuation, and grammar. These essays are meant to impress. Make an effort.
Inviting me to message “if I want to”. That’s the only prompt of all of these that I find truly useful, but not when it says that.
Knocking other people’s profiles.
I used to be a prolific (pathological?) editor of the Homestar Runner Wiki, and I have written Homestar Runner fan fiction. I still think it’s God-damned funny.
My mother has had to drop me off for a booty call.
I’m a nempimaniac. I’m always thinking obsessively about how far she’ll go, and when I will fill her up with my nozzle.
If you did not read the full profile, do it now. I’ll wait.
Thank you. If you did not compare some of our match question answers, do it now. I’ll wait.
At this point, you should have a pretty good idea of whether we can basically get along. However, I would ask you to do the following before you write to me:
- Match me at least 80%, preferably 90% or more.
- Make at least one hundred of your match answers public.
- Demonstrate, just a little bit, in writing that you have followed this protocol and looked at more than my pictures. (Hint: If your opening line is to compliment my hair or my cute rat, you won’t hear back.)
- Have some intention of dating, in the romantic, offline world sense. You don’t have to be sure it will work out, but I’m afraid I’m not on this site for platonic friends or penpals.
- Include a direct question or some other convenient handle for further conversation. It can come completely out of left field; it’s often more fun that way.
- Describe the best nap you ever saw, preferably by a non-human animal.
Additional Compatibility Indicators
You’re especially encouraged to write if you meet one or more of the following qualifications:
- You compose, perform, and/or produce music of any style. If you understand when I say that I’m annoyed by the inclusion of “breathing compressor” effects in studio recordings of dance music, you really ought to write to me. If you are also annoyed, you must write to me.
- You frequently attend live music performances.
- You frequently play board games, role-playing games, or console/computer games that don’t describe themselves as “massive”.
- Someone has called you a “hacker” or you wish someone had. But only if you know the difference between a “hacker” and a “cracker”.
- You have a prominent dark side or are otherwise “edgy”. Goth girls, rocker girls, well-tattooed girls, these I often get along with well, though they strongly contrast with me. Various kinds of kinky girls too, though I’m mostly vanilla myself. In particular, I dig ladies who are pretty sure they could kick my ass if they had to. (I don’t want you to, and I promise not to make you.)
- You are into caving, and you would like to show a beginner the ropes.
- You find the notion of opening a third or fourth date with a game of strip Scrabble to be irresistible. (And you don’t mind that you’ll lose. Because I will beat you like a rented mule. What, you steppin’? Bring it, sexy!)
- You consider yourself a connoisseur of brewed or distilled beverages. You must despise Pabst Blue Ribbon to qualify. I really try not to reject things just because they have hipster associations, so I finally tried one to find out what the fuss was about. It was just like sex on the beach: It was fucking close to water!
- You live in Queens. If you don’t, you at least have to be willing to come to Queens sometimes for dates. I like the nightlife in the Bowery and the Village as much as the next guy, but Manhattan snobs who can’t bring themselves to travel to the other boroughs need not apply. And on the same note, if you’ve ever used the phrase “flyover state” without irony, don’t talk to me.
- You are polyamorous or otherwise have enjoyed multiple relationships at once with mutual consent. I don’t mind if the open relationship thing is something new you’re willing to try, but it’s better if it’s something you’re already comfortable with.