livfwd: Dinner out & the zombie apocalypse... r u ready?
Non-Smoker with A Few Extra Pounds body type
Reno, Nevada
36 year old Male, 6' 2" (188cm), Christian - other
Caucasian, Virgo
livfwd is looking for a relationship.
Bachelors Degree
Graphic Designer

I am Seeking a Woman For Dating
Needs Test View his relationship needs Chemistry View his chemistry results
Do you drink? No Do you want children? Want children
Marital Status Single Do you do drugs? No
Hair Color Brown Eye Color Brown
Do you have a car? Yes Do you have children? No
Longest Relationship Under 1 year How ambitious are you? Very Ambitious
Pets No Pets Second Language Spanish

About Me
Listen, Dollface, I know you think this is some sort of "dating website," whatever that's supposed to mean, and that's fine. You live life your way, and I'll live it mine – agree to disagree and all that garbage. But unless you've got some sort of skills not apparent to me to aid us against the oncoming hordes of undead, you might just have to look elsewhere to form your fruitloop society of unlikely allies and adorable misfits, cuz I don't need that crap. I'm a lone wolf, Cupcake – a maverick, an outlaw. I have the agility and mental acuity of a very large, very drunk cat. As you can imagine this makes me pretty irresistible. So trust me, I understand why you'd come sniffing around here, looking for a slice of sexy renegade pie. But here's the sitchie, Lionel Richie, this ain't no episode of "Let's Get Together and Discuss Our Emotions." Cuz I've got some news for you, Princess, that ain't even a real show. So what say you and I not waste each other's time, huh? Some of us have a human race to save, and them zoms ain't gonna hose themselves.

Not that I owe anyone any explanation, but here's a list of the totally righteous skills I bring to the table:

1. I have been known to make an almost halfway decent stewlosh. Some have even gone so far as to claim it don't need no ketchup – the ULTIMATE compliment. (However, I have yet to attempt it with a rusty hubcap in an abandoned warehouse, but I'm sure it translates.)

2. I can draw a kick-butt, tactical diagram like nobody's business! (Eat your heart out, Coach Freedman.) I won't tell you how many ill-conceived, late-night, life plans I've sketched out on bar napkins with buddies down at the Buffalo Wild Wings. (Some of them may or may not have been drawn in Honey BBQ. Yeah. I know. Yum.)

3. I harbor a vengeful tenderness for all living creatures. #Protectivelnstincts #LikeABoss #HatersGonnaHate #BrowsOnFleek #RainbowButterflyUnicornKitten

After all this time, I still haven't forgiven that power-mad cretin in the pine green Ford Taurus who, with unmitigated prejudice, made squirrel pancakes of my best friend Sergeant Chippy! (That poor, poor bucktoothed, woodland angel. If he had just listened to me and stayed out of the street last week he wouldn't be up in rodent heaven right now playing his little acorn harp, and Professor Fuzz and I wouldn't be here filling the void with a half-gallon of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey.)

Green Taurus Man, you better pray you're not undead when the zombie apocalypse hits, cuz I'll be coming for you, Punk! In which case you can expect to receive a BLISTERING Happy Admin Professionals Day card (since, lezzzbehonest, that's all that will be left when we loot the abandoned Walgreens, at the corner of tirade and T'D OFF!)!!!

4. I'm basically the world's foremost expert in having to fight for my life. I think growing up with a baby sister MORE than qualifies me. (Don't laugh. She's that tough.)

5. Last (but CERTAINLY not least), I have read all the Twilight books ... So, obviously, I live with a burning rage inside of me that can never be quieted. You're welcome, all human survivors of the impending zombie outbreak. You're welcome. Aaaaand mic drop.

If you can top that, Toots, I'm all ears. I give you license to impress me.

Conversation Starters (i.e. what you'd like to do on a first date...)
At the start, we can hardly stand each other. We spend the 1st hour making pointed jabs at each other through a thin veil of dry, acerbic wit. You're in some huff about my apparent insensitivity & coarse manner, & I just haven't the stomach for your infuriating stubbornness & high-minded opinions. But, separated from the others, we’re forced to tolerate each other. Even a brutish scoundrel like me has enough latent decency to not abandon you in a cannibal-corpse-infested war zone. So you follow me around spewing your incessant chatter, but of course I'm not listening to ANY of it. Nothing screws up a perfectly decent wasteland of shambling monsters like girly chitchat.

You bark at me, "Y’know, this zombie apocalypse needn’t be so unpleasant. You COULD try being nice."

"& YOU could stop ruining it by trying to turn it into a Dove Body Mist commercial,” I respond. “If someone's flagrant stupidity is sure to yield a swift & spectacular death, I'm gonna let 'em know. I ain't gonna tie it up in silky pink ribbons & spritz it with fruity, face-melting lady perfume. I ain't sending 'em an invite to the Sadie Hawkins dance."

"Look," you counter, "I enjoy a jock douche getting his kidneys eaten from behind as much as the next girl, but all I'm saying is you could be less explicit when describing to people their gruesome demise."

"Really? Should I stick their itty-bitty bendy straw in their lil juice box for ‘em too?" I retort.

You roll your eyes, & we walk on in brief, blissful silence. But, as in any respectable apocalypse, it isn't long before we find trouble. In the ensuing kerfuffle, I alert droves of nearby zoms to our proximity all to save some small, furry, quivering cuddle-animal with sad eyes from the gory clutches of one particularly nasty creature with the terrible misfortune of awakening my smoldering wrath. At this, you begin to consider the rugged barbarian before you might not be so heinous after all. Sure, he's a feral maniac, but there may actually be a heart of gold beneath that grizzly exterior.

Just as you're having this thought, a swarm of hunger-crazed zeds comes charging into view. I turn to meet your gaze &, offering you my hand, awesomely say, in the immortal words of one humanoid cyborg sent from a parallel, war-torn future for the sole purpose of opening up a major can of butt whoopin’, “Come with me if you want to live.”

We duck into an abandoned barn where I produce a magnum & begin picking off dead-heads thru a small window. You sidle up next to me with the sawed off shotgun from the hay loft. Impressed, I reciprocate your wry grin, & together we proceed to wreak the havoc of an avenging angel on the advancing horde.

Cut to you, me, & quivering, sad-eyed cuddle-animal oozing with triumphant satisfaction, tromping boldly into the hostile, twilit wilderness, our blood-stained faces grinning widely at the thought of all the zombies between here & Hell!

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