I'm looking for love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love.
I have long legs and brains.
I believe in the soul, the small of a man's back, high fiber, good champaign. I believe in the sweet spot, opening your Christmas presents in the morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in kisses with dreams in them, long slow, soft, deep, wet kisses that last three days.
I want to talk to you as we listen to music in the background like a soundtrack for my life. . . jazz or Sinatra holding a martini, singing "Fly Me To The Moon," or ultra new, Cee Lo, Bruno Mars, ColdPlay, James Blunt, Adele or classic rock Dave Matthews, maybe U2.
Where are you? Artists. Poets. Dreamers. Rebels. Misfits. Adventurers. Heartbreakers. Princes. Or just a regular, nice guy with a cute smile who can hammer a nail straight and has read at least one novel. Apply Within.
I want a savvy guy for conversations in front of the fireplace, a guy who's not afraid to break the rules but knows when to honor them. Why is it all the attractive men seem to be married or under house arrest? I want a man who when he leaves, I think about him in the middle of the day and smile.
I want to slow dance on my front porch with you.
Where's a the guy who can touch my mind and spirit, a renegade-poet, steely eyed, brave, renaissance man? A cool, tough guy with a soft heart, Bogart in Casablanca.
