I sound like Archer.
I also think that marriage is retarded, and having your own babies is unethical when your species is on overshoot, eating petroleum-fertilized grains when oil is about to run out, so like, nota bene.
But! That said. I spent my twenties as a player, waaaay out here with a closed heart. Now I want connection and love. Intimacy. All kinds of gay shit like that.
Time is luck. We were promised nothing. Friends' birthdays are important.
When I sense a human on the other end of the line I am gracious, as befits a lord. I am generous of spirit. I am possessed by hubris. I let it take me for the power that it gives. It is a symbiote.
What I hear: The little-boy hair, if I haven't cut it. The wicked smile. The swagger.
Movies: Superbad. Spy Game. Pi. Waltz With Bashir.
Music: Think Queens of the Stone Age and Ladytron. And then Primus. They're beloved in this town.
Fights, romance, and lust for life (that's totally one thing, called Dgaw, on account of testicles)
The empirical certainty that improvement is plausible in objective terms, and we needn't live our childhoods for the entirety of our lives.
Boring, obvious, universal Maslow. (That's 4)
Coconuts, and gods damns it if I don't likes them young
If a woman likes to be read to, naked, that's a plus, I've decided. I can live without that, just, you know, not as long.
What I've lost that I care about regaining. What I can maybe look forward to.
$$ BUT I'M LATE BECAUSE I HAD TO $$
Play soda can golf, staining Civic Center with corn syrup. It's soul-cleansingly frat-boy retarded. Security doesn't know where I come from, or where I go. I'm like lightning.
$$ THEN $$
Decide whether to call my boys who get in fights or my men well-liked among the ladies. I have hot friends, is what I'm telling you, girls. They have sweet pads and drugs.
&& OR &&
Practice my Meatwad. Drop that sack. In my mouth.
&& OR &&
Take my bisexual gal-pals with boring boyfriends to lesbian night. (Though really that's a typical Tuesday night.) Mischief with chaos friends or reason with order friends.
I don't do well in monogamy. Flakery, you call it, I know. I want to go deep and I want to fall in love, but if I feel trapped my perfect boner goes away. Yes, you can be number one. No, you don't have to fuck my hilarious friends. Yes, I'm way too masculine. Yes, I'm very handsome.
I'm amazing in bed. I know every high-pitched sex nerd says that. But I'm telling you why this endless profile is worth your time.
Oh, and I don't have this problem:
I have the other problem.
You're relationship-avoidant (and ideally kind of slutty) yet you're not exactly afraid of intimacy or love. In fact, you want to build intimacy and love on a bedrock of unbelievably great NSA sex.
You sit in judgment but you're not the genuinely frigid judgmental type.
If you really like to show your rack, I will take you to dinner. You're not a cheap train wreck, you're braver than the scared girls. And if you are a cheap train wreck, I'm more likely to date you. Classiness is about money and social hierarchy and dead sky gods. This come-on took a turn.
Or you find me fascinating/have become a superfan.