"You need nothing and want everything.” ~ fortune cookie.

Outgoing, complicated borderline shut-in aspiring to escape seeks mottled (F) ray of sunshine/funshine.

You’d hate living with me. I might resent you squeezing the toothpaste from the middle. Or I might insist on doing so myself. We might prefer separate beds out of habit or maybe we can sleep through anything and would like more than anything to fall asleep and wake up next to a snoring lover's sweaty skin.

I might drive you crazy, but in the most exciting ways possible -- feathers, light bondage, but for whose pleasure?

Don’t get mixed up with me unless you want to have your certainties challenged and unless you get horny when faced with incredible adventures and you’re ready never to be bored again.

Do you want to lay next to a dancer’s body? Cuddle with a writer’s mind? Make love with an artist’s hands? See a drop of your ___ on an underwear model’s chin? Maybe you’re afraid I’m all show and no tell, all bark and no bite, but I’m a down-to-earth shaman-level empath who betrays reality to make his glittery fantasies come true whenever he can, even if that’s in my own imagination. Sound too selfish? Well, put down the glitter you cover your scars with and sit next to me.

Unlike the skilled pottery-makers of Japan whose work is valued for its blemishes, I try to ignore life’s imperfections and will love you for who you are as long as you can love me for who I have been and who I might be someday.

Drip your honey and keep my nectar hugging your ambrosial caresses until I serve you pancakes covered in blueberries and whipped cream and maple syrup in bed so we can do it all over again covered in each other's sticky sweetness.

My mouth waters at the delicious fantasy feast you might be harboring while your mind is telling you that all you want is everything. I can only try and try and try to give you more of what your body needs, as long as you let me feast on a Georgia peach while pole vaulting in to wade in the warmth of your tropical pool. My memory is failing so I have to do it over and over.

What makes your heart race faster, pulling off a killer deal or having your lover tear off your black lace stockings with his teeth? Don’t answer that, yet. Don’t crave "hip" and "cool" over strong and smart because I’m both. Don’t break the rules. Make the rules.

Let’s accept, no, let's wallow in our vices and celebrate our red flags and make ourselves more useful than most people do with their virtues. Let’s rule the world together in person (hip=IRL), or spend the weekend hiding on a video call thinking we're making others drool. I lust for the attention of someone to whom I will give you all of mine as soon as I post this and before it's flagged as just too appropriate to be inappropriate.

Let’s save the world and let the rest be herstory as soon as you turn to me whispering that you wish everyone in the world could be like us and make intense love with their best friend or forgivingly, shamelessly, completely; with a complete stranger.

I’m not looking for perfection. Your flaws may be more or less interesting as mine are plentiful. But who says we can't massage our soul wounds as soul friends until we heal into something stronger than we've ever been? We can be friends no matter what happens.

Let’s never have to choose between business and pleasure. Let’s peddle our love story to a top Hollywood producer and let’s bottle our pheromones to sell to Victoria’s Secret or opur them around the living room and throw a house party with our best friends. Let’s make the sad world laugh, the flat-affected world smile and the happy world grateful to have us a part of it.