The Dating Profile Of A Mad Man

So this is the story. I’m single at 35. I’m Gay, Christian, Kinky, Monogmouse Minded and a Bottom. I’m Black. I have a Genius I.Q. and an awful work ethic. I’m HIV positive and I use to be a meth addict. You can usually find all of this out after one conversation with me. I’m not very good with secrets or privacy; in fact honesty pours from lips like vomit from a drunk girl at a frat party.  Some say I’m fearless; smarter minds say it’s an “open” colored band-aid used to cover up my razor thin slowly bleeding insecurities. I say it’s a little bit of both. 

I see the world as a conceptual journey of metaphysical theory held together in physical form. This opens the door to more than a few spiritual and intellectual eccentricities. I’m bizarre: weird and undeniably queer; but it usually doesn’t bother me because I am not defined by the components that compose me, and I am rarely impressed by things like “fact,” “reality,” or how well one navigates this world because it’s all make-believe anyway. You and I are but figments of God’s imagination. And anything that is linear or tangible bores me.

But the thing about being strange is that there is a ten foot brick wall between you and everyone else. And when your thoughts are no longer digestible by the people around you, you begin to starve. Rewind – Scratch the record- Let’s start that sentence again: When your thoughts are no longer digestible by the masses around you, there is a full fledged fly-on-shit famine! And you become the only one sitting in a pink and purple room of white napkins and long-stem glassware, dining on shrimp cakes and Chinese broccoli with crispy pork. Mmmm… that shit is Delicious!

I’m not hungry on my side of the wall; there are all kinds of wonderful treats locked in the Wonka Factory. “Snozzberry!?  Who ever heard of a Snozzberry?!”

You see I like being crazy. I like being the strange guy in the corner writing circular scribbles on crumpled pieces of paper with broken bits of blue and yellow crayon. I like mumbling scripture in iambic pentameter after quantifying Plato’s and Kierkegaard’s notes into Tangent and Cosine. I’d like it even more if you knew what the Hell I was talking about - if you would hold my hand walking down the street and kiss me gently on the back of my neck while playing videogames in my bedroom. I would like it very much if your “I love you’s” came with a seat next to me in church; a traditional play of gender rolls where I pretended to be the pretty girl in a 1950’s porno movie; and the blind brave trust to say “yes” to me more often then you say “no”. 

If you’ll be brave enough to be the sane one in my bubbling Bunsen-burner laboratory of mad existential science, I would be yours forever. “Till death do us part.”  Or for as long and the Universe continues to expand.

But if not… I’m okay being alone.

I have a 9 inch big black dick that I masturbate on the regular. I have a box full of giant sized dildoes that get plenty of attention. I have a bible, and books, and a new puppy, and three BOMB ASS best friends, and the internet, and Socrates, and this guy named Jesus, and his dad: the creator of String Theory; Advance Applied Physics; and the Mass Acceleration Equation, and I have a laugh that makes strangers cross the street through on-coming traffic just to tell me how beautiful they think I am. Believe me; I’ll be fine. I’m an only child: I am thoroughly self-contained. My emotions are well ordered mechanics on a machine.  But I also have LOVE hand written in a secret language across my back, and I am seeking a compassionate witness.

Be my compassionate witness. And I will do my best to be yours.

I am not a Cylon. I am no the Messiah. I am not a self-actualized fully evolved human being. I’m a weirdo. I’m a dork. I am an Existential Geek. I’m the misfit girl with a cockney accent who wears too much make-up. I’m the goofy guy with vanity glasses who no one ever seems to get. But there is an order to my chaos - a brilliance hidden in the mess…. I just need you to listen long enough to figure out the code.