What can I tell you about me?

Why should you be interested in getting together with me if you’ve never met me and only have this computer dating profile to go on and that photo of me back when I still had hair?

Oh, and teeth.

Well, you should know that I’m honest, painfully honest. So painfully that at the ER last week, they still couldn’t figure out where the pain was coming from and just told me to come back next week and go directly to the psych ward. They also told me not to worry about the hallucinations either, that they would go away as soon as the presidential primary season ended. If it ever ends.

What else? I love sunsets, daisies, gluten-free gluten and long walks along the beach while holding hands, as long as the hands aren’t my own, because then they get in your way and you could stumble, scrape your knee on one of those damn beach shells and end up in the emergency room, which would spoil that one lousy weekend you have at the beach while everyone else is spending like a month in Barbados.

I’m sure I’d love Barbados if I could ever get there.

Well, to be really honest, I’m not that crazy about walking along the beach if I have to wear those funny rubber water shoes that are supposed to protect the soles of your feet from the shells but don’t really and instead just jam your toes together and put pressure on your bunions, which really makes you uncomfortable and can make you take your mind off that hangnail you’ve been gnawing at since November.

In principle, I mean.

And to be even more completely truthful, I only really go to the beach in the month of January when it’s really empty because I hate being there when other people are around, because they talk a lot, play loud music and might be presidential primary candidates.

As I’m sure you can tell by now, I am definitely a perpetual optimist, always hoping for the best and I’ve always felt that way, even during those unfortunate years in prison. (By the way, that’s where I learned to speak Latvian, not completely fluently, but darn good if you ever want to go to a Latvian restaurant. No problem with the menu if you’re with me, except if there are paired wine tastings.)

What I’m passionate about: peace on earth, scuppernong grapes, movies that feature the gaffer prominently in the credits and kidney stones.

What I really don’t like: Any kind of oatmeal, particularly when it’s used as a vegetable. Vegetables with names I don’t know how to pronounce, like broccoli rabe. Or is it rabé? People who always say “you know,” you know?

And I really have to be honest about what I dislike the most: filling out dating questionnaires like this one.

So that’s a true picture of me. So what about you? What do you think about me?

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