I recently moved full-time to the Sierra foothills. I love the area, but let's just say the dating pool is fairly shallow to begin with in these here parts, and I'm not necessarily simpatico with all of the locals (think jacked-up pickup with confederate flag stickers, chewing tobaccy and PBR, roadside appliance disposal and xenophobia). To make matters worse, I've chosen not to have kids. We can debate the whys and wherefores later, but it has ruled out just about all hopeful relationships in the last several years. If you see me first and foremost as Speed-E Zygote Outlet, I'm afraid you should look elsewhere. On top of that, I live alone and run my e-business from my house ... not a lot of opportunities to meet someone through my work (although my boss sometimes touches me inappropriately ;) ).

Having gotten this far ... you're still reading, aren't you? ... you may be wondering where the whining ends and the sales pitch begins. I'm fit but not fastidious (my body is more of a rec room than a temple), smart but still sporadically surprised, lowbrow but literarily oriented, simultaneously pursuing extremes and simplicity. Not short, fat, defective, ugly or apparently capable of selling myself. The one consistent compliment I've gotten in all my relationships is that I smell great, although I'd like to think that I have longer suits than that. I'm told I'm a very good boyfriend, usually with a wistful 'why can't the guys who'll get me preggers be more like this' sort of look in the woman's eye. If you're here because you've consistently made bad choices when picking your men, then I'm your man (hmm, that's a fairly ambiguous statement). I can provide references!

I prefer the outdoors to inside, playing sports to watching them ... and I travel when I can ... I spent about half of last year on the road, and at least 1.5 years of my life out of the country. I really like where I live -- the first word that comes to mind is 'peaceful' -- although some suburbanites might consider 'rural' and 'rustic-as-backhanded-compliment' to be better descriptors. I'm willing to eventually move for the right person, if it comes to that, though ... and I have plenty of room here for one more (and pets). In the interim, my job allows me a very flexible schedule, and I'm willing to do a little driving if you are. And there are plenty of good relationships that never get as far as cohabitation, although given a choice I'd prefer to not have to go through this e-dating process ever again; I'm willing to accept that that choice may not be entirely mine, though, given my decision about children and where I've chosen to live.

And who are you? I don't consider myself particularly shallow, but I'd appreciate something easy on the eyes without the personality defects that seem to accompany all horses bred for speed, to mix a trans-species metaphor. At the very least you take care of yourself on some level, even if you occasionally burn the candle on both ends while balancing it on a burner. Money is no object, in the sense that it is just not a priority in my life [I do make a comfortable living ... I'm not looking for any handouts, if that spooked anyone used to supporting a TuCo deadbeat ... but I think acquisition as entertainment is unfulfilling.] Hopefully you enjoy the mountains, and can hold your own in a conversation or me in silence. Impress me early then stop trying so hard. Be fully engaged in the relationship, regardless of what form it takes. Tactile is hugely more important than tactful; you think words are wonderful but understand their limitations: touch can often patch up misunderstood words when more words make more misunderstandings.

And have some time in your life for something importanter than a job. Unless you are teaching deaf orphan white rhinos to read, you may not have been put on this earth to work.

[NB ****'s inserted against my will by POF -ed.]

My hovercraft would arrive at your door, which would really irritate you since I have just trampled the flowers which you spent all day weeding. You would wonder why I didn't come in person, but then you would think, "damn, that's one fine hovercraft" and break your rule about accepting rides from strangers, your first of 3 transgressions for the evening. You would be delivered to my underground bunker, where, after a quick ****ail with Robotic **** Cheney, we would all go hunting, in spite of our mutual aversion to hunting (I make some *strong* ****ails). Upon deciding that even lawyers deserve a second chance, we would drop our arms (and lay down our weapons, and maybe even our defenses), at which point I would confess that I don't really own a hovercraft. Impressed by my belated but deep honesty, you would confess that although you didn't really think much of me on paper, you find that in person I make you a bit weak in the knees, and it's not just because I've been piggybacking for the last 3 sentences. We figure we should probably put at least a half-dozen dates behind us before scheduling our wedding at the Pee Wee Herman Chapel of Topeka, KS, and whip out our calendars, dismayed and amused to discover that the only pages either of us keep are the ones from days already passed. We kiss Deeply and Passionately, my two pet ****atoos, and then hug, glad to have found someone, anyone, that shares our love for those sour little pickles they make in France. For Christmas, you buy me a hovercraft ...