What can I say, I'm a crappy boyfriend but a boatload of fun in the drinking and palavering department.(I'm also a black belt canoodler, but that's a topic for another day.)I know, you're here for a serious relationship but hear me out for a moment.See, lots of men are fantastic at pretending to be sensitive and present to get what they want, but when the chips are down you learn that at their core they are 1) shallow, 2) opportunistic or 3) a shit), or a not so tasty spumoni-like amalgamation of shallow, opportunistic shit.Even chocolate topping doesn't help that dish.With me you are not going to have to slog it out through the hot desert of courtship only to find that the shimmering pool of righteous manhood is merely a chimera, a trick of heat and light.Let me repeat it again-- I am not good boyfriend material.If good boyfriend material were oak I'd be, say, balsa or knotty pine...or naughty pine, I don't know. Anyway, nothing you want to put into supporting beams or rafters or whatnot.But here's the great thing.....it does not matter one iota that I am a sh*tbird, because I'm not looking to build anything of substance.Yes, you can spend the rest of the day on your computer browsing an endless array of coiffed fellas with thick, girthy resumes and perfect teeth -- inside a fantastic (and I use that word literally) world in which each party is in perfect control and their curated self stays safe....or you can push away from the keyboard and enter the world of sawdust and hops to sit across from a stranger and encounter them in all their baffling Otherness.Let's see if our conversation can take wings and soar above the petty news of the day, above the Kardashians and Jenners, Trump and the Bern, the Sordid and the Tired ....I'm happy to converse on history, food, technology, literature and whatever else comes to mind. I'll carry my end of the conversation and, if you get tired, I'm happy to slide down a bit and carry some of yours as well, which is not the same a soap boxing or monologuing.Will the birds swoop down out of the sky and take perch to drink in the sweet nectar that flows from our lips?No, no they won't. Not even the hummingbirds.But you will have a kick ass evening that you will never forget.Still on the fence? Let's do a small thought experiment.Stay with me now....When you are living out your last days, in some rest home with tubes up your nose, jello on your plate and the grim reaper tip-toeing down the corridor, what are you going to remember....,the night you played it safe and stayed home to browse the finely curated personas on Match or the night you put on your good jeans and a dab of eau-de-somthing-french and met a self-identified scoundrel for well lubricated shenanigans and confabulation?Boom....the bell just rang.And now you can't un-ring it.