You want to run screaming, we might not have much in common.
Explanations? Way too often, on here, I've gotten women with a recently emptied nest who think it would be romantic to go out with an artist.
Nope. It isn't. You want romance? Fall crazy in love with someone who's crazy in love with you. It exists not in romance novels or tropes. It exists in an interaction you build.
To me, I'd rather scare them off before I need to lower them gently down. I have no desire to hurt anyone or anything. It is very hard to let them down without making them hurt.
So there you are. I'm me, a wonderful, kind, rotten person who likes to duct tape women to water towers for shots. (Strange, I'm not at all interested in bondage. Guess I'm weird.) I'd like to say more: if you say nothing about yourself, don't bother. I don't care if you look like Heather Nova. (Well . . . it'd be pretty cool.) If you could handle hanging out under a comforter on a Friday watching a dumb movie, I might really like to talk to you.
My taste in music is rather strange; I like Skinny Puppy, Paul VanDyk, Mazy Star, Crystal Method, Johnny Cash, the Blue Man Group and the Cowboy Junkies. Go figure.
I'll eat almost anything as long as it doesn't contain turnips, rutabaga or peas. (Though I like split pea soup; I'm not sure about that one, except it seems the sugars must caramelize, changing the taste. And I like pea pods. I must have been frightened by a vicious pea when I was young. If you haven't picked up on it . . . I hate peas.) I love sushi, sashimi, steak, shark, trout, orange roughy, turkey, humus, tabouli and asparagus. (Not at the same time. Or in a stew.)
4) My camera