Terribly awkward...this box...I'm thirty. Not looking for some kind of long-term, let's-get-married-yesterday sort of relationship. Not even entirely sure it's a relationship of the non-platonic sort for which I'm looking. Have you ever been in a relationship, for years and years, only one of you was just starting his/her life, and developing his/her sense of self, and in so doing, decided to completely slut it up? No...? Well, I have. I was gone for three years, and I came back to find a rather disappointing shade of the person I swore I knew. And that's the last you'll hear of that. I didn't come here in the leaden grip of desperation, or because I'm an amputee collecting social security checks, seeking some real world solace in between World of Warcraft raids (although, I do have a level 90 warlock that is fully capable of engulfing one's face in flames, even if I haven't played in months). I just..just want that Christmas-morning feeling that comes with a new person in one's life, and watching "The Lorax" on Netflix is falling a little short.I'm a pseudointellectual, and I've read far too many books for a person who will swear on a stack of Harry Potters that he has a life. And, truly, outside of work, I don't do much at all. I have a Jeep, and the carpet is always damp. My roommate is a fifty-something guy who has a diaper fetish, and an amazing Robert DeNiro impression. I really do camp and hike, not like the "camping" and "hiking" morbidly obese claim to so adamantly pursue on similar sites, and probably this one, too. Google Earth+driving til you can't anymore+walking til you see water+setting up=camping. Don't be afraid of the woods. Dealbreaker, that. I'm enamored with technology, and all things digital (even clocks, when not worn on wrists, unless they glow or change colors, which is the only time a guy should ever wear a digital watch). I'm growing a goatee. I like children, and they often tend to like me...until I make scary faces at them; then they cry. Things with wheels, I love. I have an awesome electric scooter (there totally is such a thing), and I'd prefer you not be grossly humiliated by that. Or, just copy me, and pretend it's exceedingly cool--so much so that it overwhelms the average person's coolness sensors.Got a history with opiates. History, not a present. Accept that, and let's move on. Even better, relate to that. I relate best to people who have many reasons to be sad, and melancholy, and hopeless, and forlorn, but aren't. That'll do. I'm sure after reading a bunch of these and peeping the proverbial game, I'll erase all this truth and post a photo of me wearing a visor and holding a Smirnoff, and only message chics with peace-sign-kissy-face photos.