I am a mature, self confident man, and you should be the same…except for the man part…You should be a woman. I am a wildly successful, stunningly handsome, Einstein level of intelligence and invented the internet. But always humble ;-). No seriously, I have a great job, a car (promise not to show you a picture of it), and I do regularly go to the gym ( and no... I won’t show you any pictures of me without my shirt)

Speaking about the gym...really, I wish there was a pill I could take instead going. There is nothing more unappealing than going into a locker room and experiencing an odor I can only describe as something of a cross between the smell of feet and dirty cat litter. Do all men stink? Also, why do pasty white hairy middle aged men feel the compulsion to stand around completely naked with all their franks and beans flopping around holding a conversation like you were at Starbucks. Gentlemen I know your are proud of that gut and are at an age that you just don’t care but please...have some modesty. Oh...and when in your birthday suit, learn to reach down to pick up your sneakers by bending at the knees and not by bending over. I think I’m starting to go blind. And the guys that are actually in shape... do you really need to stand in front of the mirror for an hour pruning and primping? We know your pretty, please move so the rest of us can see what a wreck we are. Where was I? Oh yeah...I hate going to the gym.

I enjoy being with friends / family, dinners at nice restaurants, dancing (just started ball room lesions - watch out dancing with the stars) and enjoy being out of the house doing things other than running errands. Yet there is a part of me that really takes pleasure in being in the comfort of my home, making dinner, and just hanging out. It’s a whole yin yang, spiritual duality, feng shui phenomenon…or maybe I’m just bi polar.

I see myself as a protector, companion, best-friend. You know… like a good dog! Skiing is fun because I get to go flying down a hill screaming like a banshee. Golf is good because I get to smack balls with a club and drive in those little carts while having an occasional beer. Regrettably, I’m not very good (at the golf thing… not the drinking :-) And Tennis...see golf. Oh... the woman in the picture was not an old girlfriend. I just thought the picture of me in my uniform looked good. Thanks!

We would get dressed. Me in my classic black tux and you in that little black dress with the Manolo Blahnik’s that you just bought. Then enter into the limo that will take us to the waiting private jet. Onboard, we have an appetizer of champagne and horderves prepared by the chef just for us. A few hours of watching the sun set at 30,000 feet, we land in Paris just as the night sky turns to twilight. Another limo whisks us away down the busy parisian streets to the world famous Le Cordon Bleu. The Maitre, Jean Philip, is waiting for us and greets you by your name. Dinner is spectacular. For desert we take a stroll down the Champs - Elysees, sharing a gellatto while gazing at the shops and the Arc de Triomphe. The night ends as we reach the Eiffel Tower for more champagne and watch the fireworks that illuminate the area in a blanket of gold.

Or mate (have to say "mate" in your best Australian accent) we could go to the Outback for a Bloomin’ Onion :-) Actually... We should plan something that will give the option of have a fast get away...