I've been married twice before; for five years in my early twenties, and ten years in my thirties. While there have been other women in my life since then, for most of the last twenty years I've been single by choice ...or perhaps lack of choice. I have only encountered a very few available (legally, morally, geographically, and emotionally) women whom I have been interested in pursuing. Perhaps I am overly selective, and (with a few exceptions) generally loath to consider regularly commuting more than a few miles from home looking for love.
By way of personal qualifications, I can say that I'm financially independent though relatively frugal in my mindset; I'd rather save to invest in real property, art, or equities than purchase luxury cars, toys, or expensive vanity items. I don't consider myself particularly well-traveled, although I have done some consulting work in Japan, have vacationed in the Society Islands, cruised in the Caribbean, visited much of the Mexican Pacific Coast, bopped into Canada several times, and lived in or traveled through 39 of the lower 48 states at some point in my life. In fact, at 17, before entering University in the early 1970s, I hitchhiked from coast to coast just for the experience.
These days I'm quite content to stay relatively close to home or the family ranch, but would love to have an excuse to discover Paris or explore more of Latin America with a fluent companion who was at least as interested in the local culture, art and architecture, history and cuisines as in the quality of service by the hotel poolside.
By default I've learned to become a pretty good (and occasionally inspired) cook, a generous sommelier, an adequate char, and an inadequate (but willing) gardener. I love to read (a daily newspaper and multiple internet extracts, a dozen magazines, and 3 or 4 novels each month), am passionate about oil-painting and wood sculpture when I'm not renovating a property, and try to work in a couple of laps around Lake Balboa or a nice bike ride every rain-free day. (Or, when I'm at the ranch in Oregon, I get a pretty good workout just keeping the garden beds in shape, tackling building projects, and hiking to the mailboxes.)
The only thing missing is you.
I'm grateful to have the intelligence to work through most problems, the resources to make most of my fixes work, and that the Christmas shopping season is limited to 30 days per year.
Admittedly, music does not really provide the soundtrack to my life, and my tastes are all over the map: I'm most likely to listen to Joni Mitchell, Bonnie Raitt, Eric Clapton, Traffic, ELO, and Michael Buble, or Chris Isaak, or Roy Orbison, or Chuck Mangione, or the Gipsy Kings, or the Rippingtons, Chopin's Preludes Opus 28 #4 in Eminor, Beethoven's Pathetique. While I'm most likely to be listening to an audio book on a long road trip, sometimes you just have to open the sunroof and crank up the Beach Boys and Jimmy Buffett and occasionally Shania Twain if you are headed for a happy place with good company.
Some people turn on their stereo the moment they walk in their door at home; I'm more likely to turn on the TV and allow it to play in the background as I go about daily chores, making meals, and sorting mail. Usually I'm tuned to the home improvement channels during the day unless there is something significant breaking in the news or in the financial markets. But I also love watching the great old black and white mysteries and film noir classics.
Sun on my skin;
Complex wine, earthy bread, and fragrant olive oil;
An interesting plot twist;
Long smouldering kisses.
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