I’m looking for wife material, but someone who can match my sex drive. That is the reason for my presence here on Tinder. Let’s talk about art and the universe. Do not swipe right if you are a woman who debases herself by posting pictures of her body on social media. Your intellect is more important than your beauty.
I am many things. A poet, a lover, a gentleman, assistant manager at Urban Outfitters, and collector of odd curiosities that society deems “lame.” I don’t drink White Claws. I prefer Bourbon, neat. I don’t vape. I smoke a real tobacco pipe. I choose not to spend my money on trendy things. Most importantly, I collect active landmines.
Does that scare you? Imagine I pick you up for our first date. I tell you that you look lovely and hold the door to my 2009 Kia Sorento for you. We listen to the classical music station on our way to my favorite restaurant. It has exposed brick, an incredible wine list, and an intimate setting that allows us to really get to know each other (it’s not Bertucci’s). We eat oysters and split a bottle of champagne. We make lots of eye contact and you tell me about your family, hopes, and dreams. After I pay the check, I invite you over for a nightcap. We walk inside my apartment and you admire my décor, exclaiming that you’ve never seen a man with such refined tastes. You peruse my bookshelf, noticing my copy of The Complete Works of Aristotle. Then, you ask me “what are those things on the mantle?”
Can you handle that? Will you flee when you see my dangerous side? I am a member of several online auction forums that sell landmines from around the world. I have been collecting landmines since I was eighteen and got rejected from every single fraternity I rushed. I realized that I was different from other males, and that I was not cut out for mainstream society. I am not one of those men who feels the need to hang a deer head on his wall to show he is a man. My masculinity comes from the fact that I have exquisite taste and the largest collection of active landmines in the tristate area.
Am I afraid my landmines are going to explode someday and kill me and everyone in my apartment complex? In return, I’ll ask you this, are you afraid of being sexually pleasured by a man with a handlebar mustache and ear piercings?