About me: painfully introverted American male who is uncomfortable with public displays of affection (including hand holding). I have Asperger's, so if you can't deal with that, hit the back button right now.
I would like to say that I keep a fairly frantic work schedule, but the truth is that most morning roll around and I hit the snooze button. I routinely don't get out of bed until lunch time and I have an unhealthy tendency to spend the weekends drinking with or without equally disillusioned colleagues and/or college buddies. I have a natural inclination towards overdressing, and will often mix jackets with old, faded jeans and antique cufflinks. When asked about what I "do for fun," I usually spout some boilerplate about enjoying traveling and volunteering with worthy non-profits, because if I answered truthfully ("I drink like a fish and spend the money I should be saving for retirement on craft liquor and the kind of food that will likely lead to a mild cardiac event before the age of 40") people would label as someone suffering from a self-defeating personality disorder with a side of mild depression.
About you: a single, white female under 30 who is over-educated and underemployed. It would be nice if you felt the urge to start your daily grind by weeping over your Ivy League diploma, then sacking up and riding the cattle cars that compose SEPTA transit to a job working with underprivileged youth. You probably come from a blue collar, yet semi-affluent background and while you refuse to admit it, you judge guys based on the type of car they drive. Your mother, if she is still alive, likely calls you once a week and reminds you in a passive-aggressive fashion that you aren't getting any younger and she was already building a family by this point in her life. Come holiday time, you lament the horrors that are memories of Christmases past, but plaster on a smile and hug your inebriated father as you regale him with tales of your "worthy" job. Oh, and if you had a massive amount of drama from some poorly chosen roommates, that would be excellent. I do thoroughly enjoy answering phone calls at 1 in the morning to hear about how "Cindy didn't take the garbage out and it was her week to do it and why doesn't she understand that it is such a hassle for you because it means you have to get up 15 minutes earlier but you never are able to do that so you always miss the train and why aren't you listening to me? I don't think you love me."
So, if any of this sounds in the least bit appealing, why don't you drop me a line and we can get down to the business of exchanging 2 year old photos we cribbed from our friend's facebook pages because they have soft focus and dim lighting. After a few witty, caustic email exchanges we can meet at some out of the way bar that is crowded enough to not seem like a serial killers haunt yet obscure enough that we wont risk running into coworkers and being forced into the shitty situation of coming up with some cover story so as not to disclose we have resorted to internet sites to find dates that aren't vapid whores or huge douchebags.
Then, you know, if all goes well we can get onto the business of building a codependent relationship with a solid foundation of mutual nondisclosure, passive-aggressive acts, petty arguments and sex with the lights off.