At 54 and 51 weeks old, a good date to me feels like I went to church.

Increasingly, spending time with other people feels like being online. There is something distracted about us both.

When you ask me what I do for fun, I’m going to stare at you blankly. Can’t almost anything be fun?

When you talk 80% of the time and think that is normal, I’m going to go home and eat sugar.

When we tell each other the catastrophic dating stories of our past during our first meeting, yesterday becomes so heavy that today looks unmoveable.

When you ask me what my hobbies are, I’m also going to stare at you blankly. Mostly because I’m trying not to get depressed. What’s a hobby? Is that the same as a passion or an obsession?

When you comment that your last girlfriend gained twenty pounds and so you broke up with her, I want eat the entire bread basket and the one on our neighbor’s table, too.

I know what it’s like to be the center of a man’s world, to be treated like a queen.

Maybe I’m just looking for a male version of myself, in which case it makes sense to dress like a man and take myself out.

I have feelings about sex. I think it’s a big deal. An event. It’s funny how many people confuse shaking hands with having sex. The amount of time and effort, and etc.

I think a relationship is a job, something that takes a lot of work, dedication, and focus.

I don’t always remember to brush my hair.

You could not pay me to wear heels.

My nails are unpolished.

I like to go to sleep at a reasonable hour.

I don’t drink.

I wish I were a drunk, and so I might encourage you to be one just so I can watch, but that will get old quick.

I want to make something great with my life.

And I want you to want the same for yours.

I’m hungry most of the time. I’ll steal your food when you aren’t looking.