I just wanted to draw your attention to a very eligible and highly desirable bachelor in San Francisco – me. I am everything you could possibly want in a man, and some things you might not have even thought of but, having thought of them, you would want them too. I would like to tell you a little bit about myself.
I am 6’4″, built like Thor (and have his beard), like to stay fit (work out 8 days a week), have different-coloured eyes (gray, green, blue, and magenta, in no particular order), high cheekbones (they are pretty much at my temples), and eyelashes so long they double as squeegees. I am 24 years old, but have the wisdom of a 174 year old, the playfulness of an 11 year old and the youthful vitality of a fetus. I am intimidatingly attractive, but not intimidating. I am very intellectual and can speak endlessly on most subjects, while being down to earth and able to relate to the common man. I am as real as it gets. In fact, I transcend reality – I live on an altogether higher plane of existence. I enjoy the outdoors while also being a homebody. I enjoy cooking at home and going out to eat. I am a teatotaller, a social drinker, and a raging alcoholic all at the same time. I am a firm but gentle lover, drawing influence from both the Kama Sutra and Orgazmo. I am a country boy at heart, but my heart belongs in the city. I like music, Indie mostly. I like the following bands you have never heard of: Orthodox Rockers, Slash Dot, Ball Point Eyeballs, The Blind Curtains, Blood Spatter, The Amish Hookers, The Swafflers, Pen Is Envy, and many more.
My type is of the strong and silent variety, but I am extroverted and love to meet new people. I once met (and made friends with) 78 people in one day. That was yesterday. I am a hopeful romantic (not a hopeless one). I am also exceedingly humble. I might be the most humble person you’ve ever met. Ever.
I am very assertive and am not afraid to speak my mind. I am very submissive and will always do that which will make you happy. I am a bad boy and a nice guy all rolled into one. On our first date I will pick you up on my motorcycle – which has a 5-star safety rated side car. I will hand you a matching helmet, flash you a toothy not-quite-nonchalant grin and ride off into the sunset. We will frolick in a grassy meadow, drink wine from a sheepskin flask, shoot revolvers at old beer cans on picket fences, cuddle under an oak-tree, and you will listen as I explain to you the meaning of life, my design for a perpetual motion machine, and why I haven’t shared it with the world. We will kiss lightly in the moonlight and I will leave you at your doorstep, your hands clinging to mine. I will call you the next day, not three days later. Dating rules do not apply to me.
I will go curtain shopping with you and tell you that that 1970’s floral pattern looks great, even when I know that it looks like someone had eaten a smorgasbord of tulips and daisies and vomited on their front porch’s wicker rug. I will help you pick out that skirt that makes your ass look just right. I will make baby sounds at your sister’s kid while he lies in his crib staring up confusedly at my bearded face. I am not looking for a booty call, but if you call me at 4AM on a Tuesday night, I will rouse myself from my sleep and come to you. I will do whatever you desire, even if that means holding your hair while you pray to the porcelain gods.
And then, one day, when the sex has gone bad and you are no longer attracted to me, I will disappear. I will slide my toothbrush into its tiny holster and slip out the back door. You will not even remember me; I will leave behind only an impression of general happiness spanning the time we had been together.
If I sound like the kind of man in whom you’d be interested, you should call me. If not, you are a fictitious woman, and I don’t care what you think.
Lonely and Waiting