A note: It’s been a really long time since I’ve updated this and I’m going to assume you’ve all gone on with your lives, as have I. Point in case: I’m now coming to you from Los Angeles, exploring the (significantly lessened) lumberjack crew down in these here parts. If you’ve given up on me, it’s cool. It’s not you, it’s me. Some lucky reader is going to be so happy to have this blog in her life, it’s just not you. For those who will continue to indulge my navel-gazing examinations of why dating fucking sucks, onward!
Pertinent stats: 6’3″. Which is really probably enough said, but okay, let’s see. 33. I’m bored and a little lonely and uh, sexually frustrated, so it’s really not taking much for me to say yes to dates these days. The nickname will be explained in due time but not in this post so bear with me. He manages a Baskin-Robbins, which may have everything to do with why I said yes to seeing him–I can be real naughty for free Jamoca Almond Fudge.
Beardliness: Nein! Nein bearden. (Definitely accurate German.) But he is my favorite height, so probably that’s a solid foundation for love. Continue reading