I was born an honest man.
But that didn't last long.. LOL
In all such earnest, though: enough with the needles (ouch!) Now looking for a soft spot on the haystack.
I feel comfortable with a woman who displays a working sense of manners, though she kisses like a heatwave, eventually to return home to, or fall madly in love and live happily ever after even for a day; it may be my last.
I want sugar and spice, and can afford it..
Preferably a neat professional and accomplished single parent, to find with her peace in the living room, growth in the home office, knowledge in the bedroom, and passion in the kitchen.. (Hold on! Isn't it the other way around? Well, maybe not!) LOL
Not to mention she puts on her finest black silk stockings and cooks a naughty lasagna to return the compliment of my world famous culinary arts: I can grill a gourmet salmon steak on the exhaust manifold of my car or motorcycle, and use the cool of either of them to chill the champagne.
I've been craving for a woman who has earned her life's wrinkles, with whom one can build a gratifying and lasting relationship that fosters mutual growth. A woman who knows the difference between being merely "possessed" by her man, and the quality of them two "belonging" to a common future they build together. Not many out there knowing the difference. We don't have to be identical everywhere; our differences affirm and are mutually complimentary of who we are.
And the bigger the family, the better.
I am unassuming and easy going, but protective to the people I love; if need be, I can turn tough as a three-dollar steak.
We are achievers and work hard, but we leave it behind when we come home. Then scramble the great outdoors, or travel to Europe and South America once a year, maybe more. Instead of bying the "Expedition" of an suv to survive the mutants on I-75, we spend our money for a real expedition to some unknown corner of the Earth.
Or we take off with our diver's boat with cooler and umbrella to some secluded sand-dune island, to live like primitives in the weekends. We cruise our convertible with the hair in the wind, or maybe ride to forgotten towns on Florida's back country roads. But don't expect tatoos, for though I've scrambled deserts in three continents with my all-terrain British classic motorcycle, here I usually ride to the library, not to bars. The desert (or maybe the dessert) makes the Man; not the tattoo.
Not to say that an atmospheric lakefront dive with a southern rock band isn't the best stop on the way back home from the library.
Did I mention we never miss the best rock concerts in town?
All-out and take-no-prisoners pillowfights on tropical stormy Sunday mornings, a must!
And we don't sweat the petty stuff; (nor do we pet the sweaty!)
What is "life", but a couple of glasses of wine,
a gasp, and a sigh, and then.. Adios amigos!
Who told you otherwise, ought to check their pulse..
That's my story, and I'll stick to it!

Well, if you got past the first two sentences of my profile, we do share a rare undeclared sense of humor. So if we met in the real world, I'd buy you a glass of wine, and if you still thought I'm not the handsomest fish in the pond, I could always buy you another..