34 San Lorenzo, United States
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My self-summary
I like to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Conspiratorial with the naughty, good to the sweet, disrespectful, ungiving and uncompromising with radically honest cokeheads, violent with the violent, well-mannered and insightful with the awake, naked with the naked, withholding from the withholding. I've gotten pretty good at it.

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’m doing with my life
Playing industrial civilization for as long as I absolutely have to. I remain a plucky, charming wage slave. Catering isn't helping the old six pack much, what with its endless free fried plantains, but I'm tryin' here.
I’m really good at
Not getting arrested, despite that I'm a chaos magnet. I just have an atomic clock in my head that plays Happy Cricket when we should scoot. Lending stable affection, appreciation, and rational think-throughs to the ADHD and impulsive. Offering spontaneity to the stodgy. Emotional intelligence: I'm decent at the five-minute read.
The first things people usually notice about me
This off-duty cop looks like a dick (NB: I could never be a cop--destroying lives over harmless drugs and being homeless? Christ).

What I hear: The little-boy hair, if I haven't cut it. The wicked smile. The swagger.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Books: Griftopia, Sex At Dawn, Blood Meridian.

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.
The six things I could never do without
Boobie pics. Yes, really. Not disembodied ones. Women make life worth living, shut up.
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.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
The suffering world I wake to, even if I'm happy enough, and I usually am. My friends mostly know me as a rock of cheerfulness, positivity, and certainty--that unstoppable paleo chaud--but to me what's unstoppable is all the horrible shit happening around the clock to children, to women, to the planet. All the villains I can't reach. Happiness. Acceptance and rejection. Choice and action. The drowned and the saved.

What I've lost that I care about regaining. What I can maybe look forward to.
On a typical Friday night I am
Uh, there are sometimes parties on Friday nights, right?


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.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
Cohabitation's a little terrifying, isn't it? I'm warm, smart, caring and fun but otherwise a terrible roommate. I need space, like my own place forever sort of space, or I'll become irritable and indifferent like a poorly housed hamster, and believe me, so will you. If I ever fall in mutual love again, my ideal arrangement will be to live four doors down.

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 should message me if
You're a little handful with some extra jiggle. I'm looking for a savvy, hilarious, problematic lady who's in love with the D but works too fucking much to try and have the perfect body, because guess whose life that is. Perhaps you're also living in hiding in the deep suburbs of the east bay for cheap rent. Or perhaps I don't mind sitting my ass on a train for a girl I like.

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.