| About | Non-Smoker with Athletic body type | City | Toronto Ontario | |
| Details | 60 year old Man, 5' 9" (175 cm), Non-Religious | Ethnicity | Caucasian Scorpio with Gray hair |
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| I am Seeking a | Woman | For | Long Term | |
| Needs Test | Not Completed | Chemistry | View his chemistry results | |
| Do you drink? | No | Do you want children? | Does not want children | |
| Marital Status | Single | Do you do drugs? | No | |
| Pets | Dog | Eye Color | Hazel | |
| Profession | Author/Publisher | Do you have children? | No | |
| Education | Masters degree | Do you have a car? | Yes |
Relationship
Intent cre8tiv is looking for a relationship. |
Relationship History The longest relationship cre8tiv has been in was over 7 years long. |
Interests
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About Me
My name is Unread Deleted.
That's right.
As hard as it may be to believe, in an exhibition of almost breathtaking prescience, my parents named me Unread Deleted.
Now, as you may imagine, growing up in a world of Michaels, Roberts and Davids, having a name like Unread Deleted was no picnic.
As soon as I was old enough, I pressed my parents for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. All I got was a wry grin from my father - no, make that a rye grin.
Public school was a nightmare. I was shunned by everyone - everyone that is but my only friend - a boy named Sue.
It was Sue who explained to me that my parents had given me my strange name to build my character.
"Then why didn't they just call me 'Gwendolyn', I asked.
"What's wrong with the name 'Gwendolyn?", Sue replied. "That's my middle name."
Then there was Lucy. She advanced the theory that my parents had given me the name Unread Deleted to get me to run away. At first her words stung, but later, when she was expelled from Grade 3 for making out in the cloak room with three boys from the Grade 8 Debating Team, I began to question her credibility.
High school was not much better.
In an effort to appear cool, I started using my initials "U.D" - which conferred a kind of Middle Eastern flair. To evoke sympathy on dates, I explained that my parents had been too poor to afford full names, and that I had had to settle for a couple of initials.
Looking back, I regret my occasional acts of deception, but, to be fair, I have to admit that without them I might never have kissed a girl.
In any event, the whole U.D. thing came crashing down around my head when some of the smart Alecs in class started calling me I.U.D.
Then, it was back to Unread Deleted.
Now, as you can imagine, I initiated legal action against my parents, and I believe that I would have collected big time if Frank Zappa hadn't messed up the whole thing by calling his kid Moon Unit.
Once the judge got wind of that, my case was thrown out of court on its keester.
Sad as this story is, it would have had a tragic conclusion if not for this humble website, dedicated as it is to facilitating the process whereby good-hearted, well-intentioned and considerate single people connect with each other via email.
Yes, it was this very website - POF - that came to my rescue in a way that only my parents, in their infinite wisdom could have foreseen.
You see, from the time that I first became part of this illustrious community and began to send earnest little missives to members of the opposite sex, I began to see my name - Unread Deleted pop up.
And I am not the only one to report this phenomenon.
Many others on POF find that whenever they send a little note expressing their sincere desire to connect with their soulmate, the response is - me! - Unread Deleted.
Now, I don't know why I am so popular on this website, or why all of the really good emails are credited to me.
Maybe it's like that guy Anonymous who wrote all of the really good poems.
Contemporary of Shakespeare, I believe.
Anyway, I don't care.
All I really care about is the fact that for the first time in my life I am a somebody - not just a target of ridicule.
Like my childhood idol, Chicken Man, I'm everyhwere, I'm everyhwere.
Thanks, POF - and thanks mom and dad.
I've never been so glad you didn't call me Gwendolyn.
That's right.
As hard as it may be to believe, in an exhibition of almost breathtaking prescience, my parents named me Unread Deleted.
Now, as you may imagine, growing up in a world of Michaels, Roberts and Davids, having a name like Unread Deleted was no picnic.
As soon as I was old enough, I pressed my parents for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. All I got was a wry grin from my father - no, make that a rye grin.
Public school was a nightmare. I was shunned by everyone - everyone that is but my only friend - a boy named Sue.
It was Sue who explained to me that my parents had given me my strange name to build my character.
"Then why didn't they just call me 'Gwendolyn', I asked.
"What's wrong with the name 'Gwendolyn?", Sue replied. "That's my middle name."
Then there was Lucy. She advanced the theory that my parents had given me the name Unread Deleted to get me to run away. At first her words stung, but later, when she was expelled from Grade 3 for making out in the cloak room with three boys from the Grade 8 Debating Team, I began to question her credibility.
High school was not much better.
In an effort to appear cool, I started using my initials "U.D" - which conferred a kind of Middle Eastern flair. To evoke sympathy on dates, I explained that my parents had been too poor to afford full names, and that I had had to settle for a couple of initials.
Looking back, I regret my occasional acts of deception, but, to be fair, I have to admit that without them I might never have kissed a girl.
In any event, the whole U.D. thing came crashing down around my head when some of the smart Alecs in class started calling me I.U.D.
Then, it was back to Unread Deleted.
Now, as you can imagine, I initiated legal action against my parents, and I believe that I would have collected big time if Frank Zappa hadn't messed up the whole thing by calling his kid Moon Unit.
Once the judge got wind of that, my case was thrown out of court on its keester.
Sad as this story is, it would have had a tragic conclusion if not for this humble website, dedicated as it is to facilitating the process whereby good-hearted, well-intentioned and considerate single people connect with each other via email.
Yes, it was this very website - POF - that came to my rescue in a way that only my parents, in their infinite wisdom could have foreseen.
You see, from the time that I first became part of this illustrious community and began to send earnest little missives to members of the opposite sex, I began to see my name - Unread Deleted pop up.
And I am not the only one to report this phenomenon.
Many others on POF find that whenever they send a little note expressing their sincere desire to connect with their soulmate, the response is - me! - Unread Deleted.
Now, I don't know why I am so popular on this website, or why all of the really good emails are credited to me.
Maybe it's like that guy Anonymous who wrote all of the really good poems.
Contemporary of Shakespeare, I believe.
Anyway, I don't care.
All I really care about is the fact that for the first time in my life I am a somebody - not just a target of ridicule.
Like my childhood idol, Chicken Man, I'm everyhwere, I'm everyhwere.
Thanks, POF - and thanks mom and dad.
I've never been so glad you didn't call me Gwendolyn.
First Date
Not yet, but there is always a first time.
Gifts Received
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