40-Something Sasquatch Seeking Same
I introduce myself as:
A tree-hugging, artsy, peace-loving, left-leaning, tall drink of water. I’m sweet, fun, and compulsively honest (for example, my photos are up-to-date and taken on bad hair days). I’m also frank—if your breath stinks, I’ll tell you. If that isn’t off-putting enough, I’m only attracted to men significantly taller than I am. What’s “significantly taller?” you ask. Only my ovaries know. I’m 5’9’ and gaga for men above 6’2″ in stocking feet.
My backstory includes attempts to fall for hairless men under 6’. I even married one. You know why we split up? He was too short. If you think you’re 6’ and tall enough for me, let me tell you something—the high school nurse who measured you is a filthy liar.
My own body type is:
Available: Barracuda with a 340 small block BES racing engine runs at 160 – 170 degrees all day long. The body is all original and uncut w/fiberglass AAR hood.
What I’m doing with my life:
I’m in my ‘tweens: no longer raising children and not yet a crone. I’ve been watching the British royals and am repurposing my empty nest as a fascinator.
I’m really good at:
Making a big first impression on your parents, friends, employers, and parole officers. I’m also a gifted vegetarian cook, contortionist, and flirt. My skill set includes pranking medical professionals by putting cotton ball eyes in the skeleton model and teaching dogs to fake pee.
The first thing people notice about me:
I’m “fun to be seen with” because of my height and big hair. Picture the supermodel lovechild of Roseanne Roseannadanna and Cousin Itt.
Note: I recently learned that my height and hair might be a proud part of my ethnicity. When a census taker asked my mother if we had tribal affiliations, she said, “Yes, Sasquatch.”
He remarked, “How interesting! How do you spell it? I’ve never heard of that tribe.”
“Well,” she said, “there aren’t many of us left.”
My favorite books, movies, hobbies, food:
Everybody on dating websites says they enjoy the outdoorsy stuff, so I won’t say it, but I actually do this stuff alone: birding, foraging, and trespassing in other people’s woods. You won’t see me at the beach. That’s because I’m underwater, pretending to be a sea nymph.
My taste in books runs literary, but that doesn’t tell you much. Better to admit I read all of Virginia Woolf’s novels, stories, essays, letters, and diaries, but couldn’t make it through Moby Dick. I also read science, nature, and true crime. I have a strong interest in cryptid hoaxes. I consider myself an armchair neuroscientist. I own a stun gun.
My favorite movies are usually the ones praised for screenwriting, directing, and acting, but I also enjoy viscerally intense and expressionistic films, such as Under the Skin. Taste runs toward “gritty, dark, and violent,” which are also my three favorite Disney elves. I dig 1920’s silent to experimental and cross-genre films, such as the animated documentary, Waltz With Bashir. If you date me, you will say, “What the fuck did you just make me watch?”
I’m an avid swing-dancer. I love a snappy twerk, but think grinding ought to be dragged out to the backyard and shot.
Values, Predilections, Other:
While on a cruise or vacationing at an all-inclusive resort, I am Googling “how soon can I get a lobotomy?” When I travel, I want to enter a natural habitat, not feel like I’m held hostage in a shopping mall and forced to play to the death in a binge-eating contest.
I believe dementia is caused by the unrelenting roar of traffic. Billboards and strip malls cause hemorrhagic fever of the soul. I recognize myself nowhere, in no one, and forget more of myself each day. I’m afraid I’m disappearing.
The five things I could never do without:
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- My dogs
- Ice cream
- Water (it’s my favorite beverage)
- A ground floor bedroom or second floor with a fire escape
- Unspoiled wilderness (just kidding, it’s gone)
I spend a lot of time thinking about:
Fire. The fate of the biosphere. This rough spot on my left thumbnail. How writing a dating profile is a cross between a job advertisement and resume. You’re simultaneously advertising a job—Yourself But Happy—and applying for it.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit here:
If we set a date to meet and you never see me, it’s because I saw you first.
Ideal First Date:
We walk in the woods without scaring each other.
You should message me if:
You’re uncommonly tall, hairy, and afraid you’ve educated yourself out of the gene pool.
One last thing: to those of you under thirty-five and booty-calling this MILF, you should know that to me, “hooking up” is connecting an eight-track to a hi-fi.
To those of you under twenty-five, I have three words for you: “Call your mother.”
She’s worried.
