I'm going to keep this succinct because I'm not, right now, in the mood for one of my longer expositions on your inner cartography.
What you want: You want to be in the company of a competent, charismatic man who can pay the way and make you want to impress him. Old duffers and nervous manlings don't cut it because they're social suicide to be seen out with and will, in any event, insist on splitting the bill. Besides, if it goes anywhere you could do without yet another tremble-lipped, teary-eyed insistence that "this doesn't usually happen!" Yeah, I know: I'm an asshole––but if you're the right person then you're probably a little bit, too. But don't worry; I'll play nice. We'll figure out what you need and help you to get it.
What I want: I spend half my days solving ugly problems for stupid people. I spend the other half solving stupid problems for ugly people. It does wonders for my self-esteem, but honestly, there are times when I wish this world had a single neck so I could wring it. What I want from you is a species of glamour; I need you to make it look like there is a possible world without work. You'll do this by exercising a penetrating intelligence, an elegant insouciance, and a physical attractiveness. Age is up for grabs, but let's pitch at 20-35. (I'll reward your physical attractiveness with my own robust physical condition.)
Message me and we'll set up the details: cocktails, meal, hotel––whatever works. Look around, it's the best deal since your drug supplier forgot to charge you.
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