About Me I'd say I've lived a pretty average life for the past 27 years, like any other man my age has. I spent the first 5 or so years of my life studying the arts; finger painting, macaroni pictures, light bright, the usual. By age 7 I was riding ostriches competitively in South Africa and engaging in full-contact chess. I was nearly a fully developed man by the age of 8.

Philosophy has always been a passion of mine - I have spent long, lonely nights wondering why world hunger exists, yet vibrating shoes don't. I finished 2nd in the South American Hand Writing contest, took 3rd in the Turkish Nude Olympics, and ironically won 1st place in the competition to be on Lost and The Biggest Loser. Jay Z has my number on speed dial. I beat Cristiano Ronaldo on a 1 on 1.

I once single-handedly commanded an entire fleet of fully trained and dangerously equipped carrier pigeons throughout Kentucky with limited visibility and caution. Unfortunately, I now have a phobia of pigeons. Using nothing but a paper clip, 2 AAA batteries, and a stale box of Corn Flakes, I once saved a child from certain drowning and personally nursed him back to health in under a fortnight. Barack Obama named his pet rock after me. Gordon Brown named his pet rock after Baracks. I don’t believe in pet rocks.

On my days off, I invent new yoga positions and teach classical arm wrestling techniques to the blind. I watch Saturday Night Live on Sundays, Monday Night Football on Tuesdays, and on Wednesdays I order drinks off the Thursday menu at TGI Fridays. It’s always happy hour when I order. I strategically place Christmas Lights on Jewish People's houses during Kwanza. My motive is chaos, my aphrodisiac suspense, and my middle name is John. When I buy one I get two free.

This self description is in no way legally documented nor realistic in any way shape or form. Well, except for the part about the finger painting. For some reason you ladies seem to bring that up, so just FYI, I am pretty awesome at finger painting.

First Date: She meets me at the foot of her doorstep as I pull my shiny red Peugeout up to her house. We lock eyes and smile, and I take a moment to appreciate the beauty in her playful face. With a hand clutching hers, I use the other to open her door and she hops into my car giddy with excitement.

We share dinner and conversation, both slightly anxious from an unspoken anticipation aroused from wandering imagination. For a minute we stare into each other's aura in an almost flirtatious showdown tearing away each layer of insecurity with every batted eye. The candle flickers and I watch as the light dances across her face, travels down her neck, and brushes over her shoulders and chest. She seeks my gaze again, and my eyes shift from her stare to her lightly biting her lower lip.

She takes my hand, locking our fingers together, and leads me away from our table. The candle flickers wildly. She pulls me down a hall into an unfamiliar place, opens the door to another hallway, then leads me to a second door. With tremendous curiosity I open the door to let her in and before I have the chance to peek inside she grabs me by my shirt and rips me in with her, giggling and smiling in a strangely sexy way.

We are both breathing heavily in the dark silence, and in a moments time our breathing synchronizes, our eyes adjust, and we are again staring at each other. I can feel her chest pressed against mine, and my back flat against the door. Her face moves closer to mine, our breathing slows, and our noses nearly touch. She has her hand on my arm and as she notices my lips brushing up against her cheek she digs her nails into my bicep and begs me with her eyes.

Just then she realizes I’m 6'1" and that I’m white, and remembers that she only dates 6’6” black guys. So we shake hands, have a good laugh about it, and go our separate ways.