The short, sweet & to the point version….
I am just an average person, working a boring job that pays the bills. Traveling for me is the grocery store, weekend nights spent driving to South Beach at some randomly late hour… or when I have to go into the office to work twice a week. Maybe a no frills, home cooking, average body type, with a bunch of curves (some might say too thick if they have whitegirlitis), housecleaning, homebody isn’t your thing, but it’s the thing I am. I'm comfortable with who I am & how I look... I'm 41, not 21. I drive a VW, live alone; have 2 cats (that are secretly plotting to drive me crazy). I’ve had the same job for 12 years. I have a relatively short attention span… and even shorter tolerance for bullshit. Yes, I drink. Yes, I have a fair amount of tattoos. & yes, I can wear a 6” heel with the best of them. Obviously from viewing my pix you’ve gathered I’m not much of a sun lover. Melanoma is no ones friend. I prefer to keep my skin the way it is & don’t feel the need to damage it by the sun. I love bacon, frequently eat eggs benedict for breakfast... but limit myself to 1 cup of coffee a day. BTW, if you haven’t had Apple Jacks lately, try it. They’re way more awesome as an adult.
I can certainly appreciate someone else’s ambition for wanting to be the next millionaire, have the perfect beachfront view, and drive an $80,000 car… or a closet full of Gucci this or that. Not gonna lie, I’ve been tempted chuck a deuce at the land lady & buy that pair or CL’s, but… at the end of the day, I can’t live in those shoes, or my car for that matter. It’s a Jetta, not the comfiest of accommodations.
What I’m looking for is someone who doesn’t need to be all up in my face. Let’s be real, we’re all grown people… who needs someone giving them the what are you doing, where are you going, when are you gonna be back, who’s there. If you reeeeally want to know, you’ll be the one making the plans to make sure you, or I, don’t have to ask those questions.
No, if you message me one time I will not give you my number because you want to text. My number is my number for a reason & I don’t just randomly give it out so Joe Crazy can text/call whenever. I got sh*tto do & things I’m doing. If we establish we’re both not crazy, cool. I’ll give you a call/text.
Yes... I really am a woman. Not by surgery. By real life vaginal birth from my mother. All original female equipment; and no, I’m not some 12yr old girl setting you up for some new episode of To Catch a Predator – Chris Hanson won’t be jumping out from around a corner.
While I’m obviously not perfect, I do have a preference to the man I am attracted to... African American, taller than 5’11”… no gold teeth. You need to have a job, man. I’m no ones sugar mama. If you have like 2, 3, 4 baby momma’s, it’s not going to work out, sorry. Please don’t tell me you have a roommate... you’re mom is not a roommate, she’s your mom – and you need to get up out the house (unless youre caring for her because she’s ill. I’m not completely insensitive)
Ok, I might have misled you in telling you this would be short… I'm a woman. It’s hard to not ramble. But it was to the point