Introduction

Yep, I decided to make the title of this ad a truly awful math pun. I don't know whether to be impressed, or sigh at myself for the hoops I jumped through to make that work. Rather, I don't know whether to sine at myself. That solidified it, these attempts at humor are firmly on the side of shameful. Maybe we'll end up living together, and have to cosine a lease. Your groans of disappointment only make me more powerful! This post is shaping up to be the perfect metaphor for my life, an absolute train wreck. Now that your expectations are sufficiently low, I think we can actually start.

First and foremost, I would like to offer up my sincerest thanks to anyone who may be reading. Much like I'm taking a leap of faith by putting myself out there, you've taken your own simply by clicking on this terribly titled post. Even if I fail to pique your interest after all is said and done, I still appreciate the time you've spent listening, and hope you have a wonderful rest of your day. Most of all I wish you the best of luck finding whatever it is you're looking for in life, you deserve to be happy. That pursuit of happiness is why I am standing here steadfast! Metaphorically, I'm typing this while sitting on my bed. The honest truth is I'm absolutely terrified to put myself out there. If I owned boots, I'd definitely be shaking in them right about now. Despite that, I can't keep letting my near infinite anxiety stop me from being happy.

I guess this is as good of a time as any to touch on my mental health. It's important enough to discuss, might as well shoehorn it in early. If the puns didn't scare you off, maybe this will! Normally this is the part where I’d usually go into having basically every anxiety disorder under the sun, but funny thing about that. Turns out all that crippling anxiety I’ve been dealing with my entire life was actually just a symptom of undiagnosed autism the whole time. It only took 12ish years of therapy trying to solve the wrong problem to figure out that little mistake. Oopsie daisy. Now that the existential crisis of autism recontextualizing every interaction I’ve ever had is mostly over, I’m feeling pretty optimistic about the future. Which ties into what I said earlier about taking a leap. For my entire life I've made excuses on why I can't put myself out there, waiting for some imaginary point in the future where everything is perfect. The reality is there's always going to be a reason to justify waiting, and I'm tired of making excuses.

Probably got way too personal there, but I figured you should know what you're getting into. For better or for worse, I've become a bit of an open book about this sorta stuff. With all of that in mind, how about we talk about something a little less heavy? Like the true identity of this enigmatic, yet delightfully airy French pastry set before you! This question has plagued academics, and bakers alike since time immemorial. A croissant, no matter how buttery, should be incapable of rambling to such ludicrous lengths. This is pretty embarrassing to admit, but my moniker is actually a fib.

It pains me to say I'm simply a regular old human being, and a decidedly un-French one at that. Butter doesn't even make up a significant portion of my total mass. Disgraceful I know, but there are more Earth shattering revelations to come in my tell-all autobiography, About Me. I'll be signing copies after I share this "short" excerpt for anyone who wants to stick around and chat. Buckle up for the wild ride that is me trying to explain anything in a concise and coherent manner. You might as well start putting up the spooky decorations, I’ll figure out which drawer has one of those pumpkin carving knives with the orange handle. Halloween will probably be upon us by the time we're done getting through this novella.

About Me

Before going any further, I feel it's important to say a few (understatement of the century) words about myself. This is never gonna work unless we're acquainted, after all, so here's my attempt at one sided small talk. Creation is a running theme of a lot of my hobbies, and writing silly little haikus is a favorite way to pass the time. In fact, I think I’ve accidentally amassed enough for a book by this point. If you haven't noticed by now, I tend to gravitate more towards the stream of consciousness end of the spectrum. Plots of any kind are my arch nemesis when it comes to the written word. Recently I got a new setup for digital art, which has been a lot of fun to mess around with. I'm stubborn about it though, and refuse to look up how to actually use the program properly. I also always make sure to have the necessary ingredients to bake sweets whenever a craving strikes. Centers of brownies are clearly the best part, whoever invented the all edges brownie pan is a monster.

All in all there's a wonderful sense of satisfaction from creating something out of nothing, you know? Although cookies always taste just a little bit sweeter when someone else makes them, but maybe that's just my supreme laziness talking. I have a horrible sweet tooth, by the way, and am not above taking sugary based bribes (cough cough). Be warned, I'm a bit of a bit of a bad boy. Getting a cavity filled? I couldn't think of a better occasion to make cupcakes, I know I'm starving by the time that feeling comes back to my mouth. It's a miracle my arms are still noodles, thank you metabolism. I weep at the thought that one day you will leave me.

Speaking of which, I cry all the time. Happy, sad, tears fall at the drop of the hat. I've always been a crybaby, but it's gotten so much worse with the passage of time. That hallmark trait of bad boys, uncontrollable crying. Circling back to my premature death by sweets, I've actually been loosely working out in a shocking turn of events. My life thus far has been so sedentary my bones have turned to limestone. Trying to get ahead of the problem before it actually happens, no matter how miserable exercise may be. My body can't take pie for breakfast forever, plus I have that pesky antidepressant bloating to worry about nowadays. Been using Ring Fit Adventure because I foolishly thought the power of video games would make the experience more tolerable. It hasn't.

Look at that seamless transition sentence into playing video games, I'm sure my middle school English teacher would be proud. It's my oldest pastime by far, and I'll probably still be playing games when I'm old and decrepit. As opposed to my current state of young(ish?) and decrepit. This is the part where I would usually talk about all the games I’ve been playing lately, and what I’m looking forward to, but to be honest I’ve barely touched anything else since starting Final Fantasy XIV a few years ago. I think Baldur’s Gate 3, and Tears of the Kingdom are the only things to have pulled me away for any meaningful amount of time the past year. Elden Ring's dlc probably will too, when that finally comes out. The siren song of Final Fantasy XIV is too strong for me to ignore.

What can I say? The story is nothing short of immaculate. And the fact they told a satisfying narrative across a complete reboot, four expansions, and a decade of storytelling leaves me flabbergasted. I am aghast with flabber! I know the new expansion hasn’t landed with everyone, but they added a magical painter, so I’m happy enough. Fashion is the true endgame, and I have spent an embarrassing amount of in game money in the pursuit of good pants. Why are there hardly any good pants?! I tend to play white mage in my pursuit of combat based pants because of course I heal. The jokes about a sub playing healer could write themselves, so enjoy your low hanging fruit. I did surprisingly win a small house not too long ago, and have been losing my sanity trying to interior decorate in this game. Been blowing money even faster than with pants, so you know the situation is dire.

Hopefully that chunk of the post wasn't too baffling for someone who has no interest whatsoever in Final Fantasy, or video games in general. I tried my best to keep the impassioned jargoning to a minimum. I know I can get carried away when I'm talking about the things that excite me, and when I fall into a rabbit hole, I’m stuck in there for weeks learning everything there is to learn. In general, over analyzing things to death has always been my default state, no matter the medium.

My tastes in film are all over the place, with no discernible rhyme or reason. With the exception of horror (my spook tolerance is nonexistent), I think it's safe to say I can find enjoyment in most genres. Even if some of the enjoyment occasionally comes from endlessly nit picking plot holes. Sometimes I'm in the mood for artsy movies that make you think for years after watching like The Lobster, which to this day I still can't decide whether, or not I enjoyed my time with it. Other times I want to consume the worst trash, like the masterpiece that is Con Air. Nicolas Cage attempts a Southern accent for the entire run time, and I promise you it's worse than whatever you're imaging right now.

Usually it's stuff somewhere in the middle of those two extremes. To give you a vague idea, some of my favorite movies of the past couple of years have been: Blade Runner 2049, Across the Spider-Verse, Parasite, Jojo Rabbit, and Everything Everywhere All at Once. By no means is that comprehensive, let alone representative of a top 5 of any sort. Tried to think of a wide ranging swath is all. Going to the movie theater is pretty much the only time I willingly renounce my shut-in ways, hooray that they didn’t all go bankrupt before it was safe to go outside again.

When I imagine the perfect day, it's one where I have nothing to do, and can stay inside all day. Even now my heart is aflutter just thinking about it. This post-apocalyptic (post-post-apocalyptic?) world we now find ourselves in was made for me, I've spent my whole life practicing social distancing. I'm as introverted as introverts come, let me live in the... radish-dark. Yep, radish-dark. That's the opposite of the limelight, go with it. To quote Bill Wurtz, "The sun is a deadly laser."

I just remembered a useless fact! Did you know laser is an acronym for “light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation?” Remember that for the pop quiz at the end. You know when a phone is super old, and despite charging it all night the thing is somehow at 20% right after you leave the house? That's the garbage battery I'm working with for socializing. The mere act of making plans can drain me completely. All in all I live a very boring life, but I'm seldom bored, if that contradiction makes any sense.

Learning is another passion of mine, and I'm extremely curious by nature. My brain is full of facts, each one more useless than the last. If I have a question, no matter how trivial, I won't rest until I have an answer. Because of that I have a gigantic pool of knowledge that's about ankle deep. My approach is definitely a jack of all trades, master of none. At least I've gotten good at using Google Scholar as a result. You always need to cite your sources, people. On the other end of the learning spectrum, I love to hear others discuss their passions in life.

Doesn't matter if I didn't have any interest in the topic beforehand, I get caught up with their secondhand enthusiasm. One thing leads to the next, and suddenly I know the shape of your upper lip is called a Cupid's bow, and I have combination skin. In the same ballpark, I like to argue. Not out of anger or annoyance, playing Devil's advocate is simply fun. Gasp! Lefties are evil, the church was right! In all seriousness, there's a lot you can gain discussing opposing views even when they're not your own.

On the formal side of education, I graduated with a degree in psychology right as the apocalypse started (let’s ignore the fact I never noticed my own autism in all those years of taking psych classes). Took me long enough to get that silly piece of paper. Still trying to find my footing on these next steps in life, and the pandemic sure didn’t help in that regard. The realization that I can no longer pretend that I'm not an adult anymore has been quite horrifying. Currently trying to work on the whole functioning adult thing, and I’ve been volunteering a couple of times a week, but even that is proving more difficult than it should because of the aforementioned mental health stuff. It has been getting easier though, slowly but surely, even if it feels like progress is agonizingly slow. No longer having guaranteed panic attacks surrounding every shift, and now I only have them if it’s a bad day.

The goal of all of this is to one day be able to hold a job, and I'm hopeful I'll get there. Eventually. Should probably figure all this out before posting a personals ad, but I already said no more excuses! My main interest in psychology was the abnormal side of things, continuing the trend of backtracking to previous topics because I distracted myself, which includes the disorders and stuff. The cognitive aspects were a real winner too, with my darling unilateral spatial neglect being such a fascinating condition. Basically it's an attention disorder where you ignore everything you see out of one eye.

This isn't blindness, it's a matter of patients not paying attention to visual information from that side. So they will only eat half from their plate, or only shave half of their face. These are the sorts of things that tickle my fancy. As far as picking a deep end for the pool, keeping with the knowledge metaphor from before, my top two choices were psychology or philosophy. I picked the former because I thought it had better job potential, but nothing beats writing a philosophy paper. For the record, ethics and falling into existential dread are my philosophical jams. If you think I'm rambling now, never get me started on those topics.

Who knew spouting random pieces of information about myself would be the hardest part of this process? My spirit animal is an old man yelling at kids to get off his lawn, short-haired Thor is clearly the hottest Avenger, and my feet are always cold. Took me long enough to get to the truly important information. At the end of the day it's a marathon, not a sprint. It takes time to truly get to know someone, and I look forward to truly getting to know you. I could sit here talking about myself all day (that's a promise, not a threat), but that can never take the place of having a real conversation. Two sided small talk, what a novel concept. I suppose I've stalled long enough, and should finally touch on the awkward naughty bits. Well that's an unfortunate bit of phrasing, if only I could be that clever on purpose.

Interests

The last time I wrote out this section it took me over 1500 words to say, "I have no idea what my interests are." Don't you worry your pretty little head, there's no way I would leave it to a single sentence. I pinky promise to make a concerted effort to be brief-ish, that way I can get some other thoughts on the subject out of my system. Right now I'm sitting on a mountain of theoretical knowledge, with not much in the way of practical experience (the horrors I've come across researching). Or in other words, I've got plenty of book smarts, but no street smarts. It's important to note from the outset that there's a big difference between fantasy and reality. While I have a vague idea about the things I would like and dislike, I personally take them with a grain of salt. More metaphors because I can't help myself.

I thought I would enjoy buttermilk pie, I certainly enjoy all the ingredients involved when mixed together in other sweets, but I was not particularly fond of that dessert when I finally tried a slice (I need to stop working on this when I'm hungry). Same logic applies here. Take something simple, like wearing a collar. Sounds good on paper, but maybe I'd find something around my neck uncomfortable. Instead of helping me get into a subbier subspace, it could just as easily hinder the experience because I find it too distracting. Whatever material it's made out of, and how snugly it fits could play a huge role in overall comfiness.

I can't say for certain how I'll react to a collar until I put one on. Even then, you have to consider the context behind wearing it. Putting one on myself might not elicit any feelings, but you putting it on me could be a transcendental experience. At the end of the day, I don't think it matters all too much. What's important is the symbolism, and the meaning behind potentially wearing one. Belonging to someone else. The collar itself is secondary to that fact.

If we catch feelings for one another, I'm confident we can make it work, regardless of whatever the other person is into. Your interests are going to influence my own, just as my nebulous interests are going to have an influence on yours. Perhaps you're just as clueless on these matters, or maybe you have a relatively solid idea of what you're into. No matter our experiences, we'll slowly but surely learn what the other enjoys. Compromises will probably be reached, every person has their own unique level of comfort that they bring with them.

What I can say, since I've spent this long justifying a non-answer, is that the vague ideas of what I would like tend to be on the gentler side. I'm a delicate flower, both physically and emotionally. That said, I'm more than willing to explore once that bridge is crossed, and look forward to whatever dynamic we find works for us. And I'd like to think it's called a dynamic for a reason. If these things were permanently set in stone it probably would've been called a static instead.

The specifics of what we end up doing together aren't all that important to me, I care a lot more about who I'm doing them with. That isn't to throw people who are searching for something specific under the bus. Knowing exactly what you want is just as valid as the laissez-faire attitude I've come to adopt. If you need to peg your partner into oblivion to be happy, by golly you deserve to find someone just as enthused about taking it up the butt! There's pros and cons to both approaches, as with everything in life.

More so than any particular kink, fetish, or act; my focus is on a more general sense of subbiness. Haven't found a better term for it yet, so I'm stuck saying general subbiness for the time being. Something internal, a pervasive part of who I am in everyday life. Like my normal headspace is inherently a little subby, I suppose. I've been this way for as long as I can remember, even if I didn't have a word for it until a few years ago. Since the vast majority of a relationship is non-sexy times, that's where I want to focus my attention.

Embarrassing story time! Back in the time of VHS, before the advent of the DVD player, I remember rewatching a particular scene in Batman and Robin over and over again. That's the one with the bat nipples, and ice puns if you can't keep track of all the numerous Batmen. It's no wonder the intro was such a mess, let's shamelessly shift blame to Arnold Schwarzenegger for my heinous acts of punnery. Back to slowly killing myself with blushes, there's a scene where Poison Ivy gives a smooch to Robin that's supposed to make him her slave. But it turns out he was wearing rubber lips, and I remember thinking he was an absolute idiot for not getting himself poisoned by her.

In my favorite movie of all time, The Princess Bride, the main character is constantly dropping, "As you wish," whenever he's with the love of his life. The pantheon of crushes from my childhood consists exclusively of ladies who definitely wore the pants in the relationship, with Meg from Hercules standing above all else. Best Disney song, without any room for debate, is obviously I Won't Say I'm in Love. Fight me. I may or may not have stopped typing for a few minutes to have a singalong (and I definitely had a second singalong since I typed that sentence the last time I fiddled with this).

Growing up I really loved my grandma, and I wanted to be a housewife just like her when I got older. Admittedly my notion of her life when I was a kid was that she played games on the computer all day, and baked cookies, but I think the sentiment still stands. I’ve always found comfort in being confined, I guess is the best way to describe it. Claustrophilic, as opposed to claustrophobic. I tend to unconsciously move towards the corner of the couch, or I love being wrapped up snuggly in a blanket burrito.

You know when you go to a doctor, and they give you soft praise when you follow their directions? Like they’ll tell you to breathe in deeply during a physical, and drop a simple “good” on you after you do it for them. Best feeling ever. The Criminal music video by Fiona Apple has to take some blame for how I am now too, it’s not all Arnold’s fault. As a delicate man, I certainly wanted her to be careless with me. Can I stop embarrassing myself now? Have I established my general subbiness street cred?!

Those are quite possibly some of the worst examples I could've given, but I put myself on the spot and panicked. The point I was trying to make is that I can look back, and see the natural progression to how I feel now. The whole role reversal-y, gfd-y sorta vibes are nothing new. When sarcasm and smart ass-ery have been a huge part of the way I talk for almost all my life, it's not much of a surprise I can also be a bit of a brat at times. A very cowardly brat. I am way too quick to confidently assert, "What are you going to do about it?" only to have crippling shyness overtake the moment those words leave my mouth. One of these days someone might actually do something about it!

I should mention, since I've just spent a few paragraphs distancing myself from the naughtier aspects of this stuff, that there is definitely a more sexual component to my subby feelings. But I feel like we can properly get into that once we're more comfortable with one another. You'll have plenty of time to steal my innocence later down the line, it's not going anywhere. Yes, I'm still maintaining innocence despite the aforementioned horrors I’ve witnessed. Hush. Call me old fashioned, but it would be nice to be wined and dined a little before a conversation gets too horny.

Distancing myself from the naughty stuff once again because even those few sentences were enough for blushes to take away precious foot related heat, let's talk about something more wholesome! Sickly sweet cute stuff like cuddles and boops are positively essential. Both giving and receiving. That wasn't meant to be an innuendo, yet here we are once again. This was supposed to be wholesome time! What I was trying to say is that at the end of the day we're equal partners, regardless of the roles we may gravitate towards. It seems silly to not share big spoon duties, dommy folk are just as capable of having those days where they need to be held. You’re a human being, capable of feeling the full breadth of human emotion.

The cuteness doesn't stop there, your scalp should prepare itself for the pain of me fumbling my way through braiding. Something about three equal parts, how hard can it be? In no time at all these hands will weave the messiest of French braids. Or maybe you've rocked a shaved head since seeing the trailers for V for Vendetta, there's still plenty we can do in this impromptu slumber party. How about painting some nails? Do some fun stuff like a ten finger color gradient. Or even better, a 20 color gradient involving toenails! Does nail polish come in matte? What color would Matte Damon be?

I'm thinking green for Boston. Which is really green for Ireland. The gears are turning for the weird possibilities at hand. There's no escaping them, accept your fate. If sitcoms have taught me anything, we've hit all the hallmarks of a proper slumber party. We already talked about cute boys (Thor approximately 20 years ago), hair of appropriate length was braided, and way too many bottles of nail polish were pulled out. I call that a rousing success!

Trust

You may have picked this up as a running theme by now, trust is key. I'm not expecting, nor do I want to jump right into play. Heck, I could very well chicken out and decide I'm not actually ready at the last minute (you can too, by the way). What I'm looking for is a friend, first and foremost. Can't really stress the friend part enough. Building that kind of trust is a process that takes time and effort, continuously taking place as both of us grow. It's a two way street, and I'll need to earn your trust as well. As you can imagine, I'm definitely looking for something long term.

Sticking with each other through thick and thin. Where you can depend on me as much as I can depend on you. I'm about to go full blown hopeless romantic, but one day we might start to develop feelings for one another. There are few things in life quite as beautiful as loving someone, and being loved back. The old heart is aching just thinking about it. That got way too sappy, we need some silliness to balance things out!

My dream is to grow old together, sitting in our cute little rocking chairs in retirement bliss. Both of us are knitting, but I'm way slower because the needles are scary, and my fine motor skills are definitely shot by this point. I can't help but crack a smile as I tell the neighborhood kids how dangerous it is to run around, and that they need to be more careful. You playfully shove me in response, telling them not to listen to an old man. My daydreams are weird, are you really surprised at this point? That was still pretty sappy, and an overly obtuse way of saying I hope a woman makes an honest pastry out of me one day. I'm all about that boring monogamous life, where all we need is one another to be happy.

Let's try one more time to get back to reality (up there goes gravity). The chances we're remotely close to one other are slim to none. It'll be a minor miracle if we're in the same time zone, let alone the same state. Turns out the internet is a big place. Moving from online to in person would be my ultimate goal, if we do end up falling madly in love with one another. No idea how that's ever going to work logistically, especially because flying has gotten so expensive. But that's a problem for future us to solve, right now I'm fueled by blind optimism that cannot be shaken! How very out of character. Usually a pessimist, so don’t let a second bout of optimism in this post fool you.

With all of that in mind, let's talk and get to know one another. Maybe, just maybe, we'll be exactly what the other has been searching for all these years. Or maybe, just maybe, I'm overly romanticizing the whole situation. The grandpa in The Princess Bride was right, the kissing parts have become my favorite! Who knew I would grow up to become Fred Savage? I wasn't lying when I said it was my favorite movie. Further ignoring the fact that this section was once called "Trust," Matte Damon being green was just the beginning of strange pulls that will require multiple leaps in logic to barely make any sense. My mind works in mysterious ways, sometimes with little to no rhyme or reason. Sometimes is too generous, let's bump that down to most of the time there's no rhyme or reason.

Brace yourself for more esoteric references, and weird philosophical waxings that come out of nowhere. They have a tendency to blend together, which can make conversing an especially confusing task at times. For example, "God really doesn't understand irony." That clearly seems like a philosophical waxing about the unknowable machinations of a higher being, but I'm actually talking about Alanis Morissette. You have to know she played God in the movie Dogma, and the fact that her hit song Ironic spends its entire run time listing things that aren't actual irony to even have a chance at understanding what I meant. Why do you think rain on your wedding day is ironic, Alanis?! You oughta know I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed.

Closing Thoughts

How did you possibly make it to this point? Consider my mind to be officially boggled. Speaking of mind boggling, I hope you were paying attention earlier. What does laser stand for?! I bet you thought I was kidding when I said I was going to give a pop quiz, and at this point you probably read that useless fact 15 minutes ago. For those who forgot, the answer is light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation. Everyone who studied, and got the question correct is a good noodle. You get a gold star next to your name and everything. Not even a complete paragraph later, and I've unintentionally alluded to a random episode of Spongebob. Watch and be amazed as this totally legitimate soothsayer predicts his own future! Nothing fishy about that. Or rather, nothing spongey... Even I'm groaning at that one, if it's any consolation.

Thank you again for taking the time and energy to read through all of my chaotic thoughts on this subject. Apologies for not getting through that in a more succinct manner. Even after the great culling in Interests (which really wasn't much of a culling in the end), this post has shattered through the 5000 word mark. To put it in other terms, when I converted this to proper MLA format it was a whopping 15 pages long. I'm the reason why professors had to put a maximum length on papers. You have the patience of a saint, truly.

I understand how daunting of a task it must seem to take on someone that has pretty much no history in this world, especially when they're the personification of anxiety. If all the numerous red flags haven't scared you off at this point, I would absolutely adore hearing from you. Please feel free to ask any questions you may have, I will happily answer them to the best of my ability. Despite all odds, I'm sure I left out incredibly basic information. Please don't feel compelled to respond to every little thing discussed, I shudder at the thought of you having to write an essay of your own to touch on all the disparate topics.

Final stretch, time to focus. After all is said and done, what's most important is to not give up hope, even if I'm not what you're looking for in life. What I mean is the right person is out there for you somewhere, I promise. It's not about finding anyone, it's about finding the one. So long as hope is in your heart, I know you'll one day find your happiness. That's enough from me, I'll leave you with a poem I frequently think about as a palette cleanser from all of the shenanigans I put you through. Pretty sure that's the wrong palette. Yep, quick Google search later and I now know it's palate. The mistake is staying, our flaws are what make us unique and beautiful. Kinda sorta brought it back to the message of the poem, nice save!

“She had blue skin, and so did he. He kept it hid, and so did she. They searched for blue, their whole life through. Then passed right by, and never knew.” -Shel Silverstein.