Life for me is vitally defined by a process of...
...scrutinizing my thoughts, decisions, actions, likes/dislikes, and “choices” (“What choice?” – Rounders; also, The Matrix);
...probing Uncharted, sometimes scary, territory (homage to Sara Bareilles!), to ultimately become AT ONE with myself: Brahman/Nirvana.
My ideal partner would co-embark on the journey along this “Road Less Traveled”—speckled with OODLES of frivolous giggles and thrills!—partaking in meaningful dialogue, and sharing my joy of discovering, growing, building, making connections, and creating enriching experiences.
To balance all that spiritual rigor, I get my adrenaline rush playing tennis or pick-up basketball; OR by rollerblading along the sun-kissed ocean, say from Hermosa Beach to Santa Monica, and sprinting up that wooden staircase to Ocean Ave., to score a Power Strawberry Whirl on the Promenade.
Dream vacations:
SUMMER: Rise and shine at 7 AM in a hotel room on 5th Ave. overlooking Central Park, to Carly Simon’s “Let The River Run” (“Working Girl”); take a gentle, 5-mile stroll through the Park, pausing halfway on the Bow Bridge over the Lake (a la “Keeping The Faith”); dig in to some juicy chunks of watermelon; find a sidewalk table at a French cafe, order an omelette with spinach/onions/tomatoes/avocado/fontina cheese, and cold, freshly squeezed OJ, and have IHOP’s chocolate chip pancakes drowned in imported Canadian maple syrup delivered to our table; go back to the Park, lay out on the Great Lawn and plan out our day, and also catch the New York Philharmonic’s open-air concert there; saunter over to the Waldorf for a delectable lunch at Bukhara Grill: the Kurkuri Bhindi goes great with a Chardonnay; spend the early afternoon watching a Broadway play, and then the later afternoon rollerblading the 6-mile Park Drive, earning that cold beer at “Tavern”; shop 5th Ave.’s high-end clothing boutiques at dusk; fine-dine at an Italian restaurant near Lincoln Center—“A bottle of white, a bottle of red; perhaps a bottle of Rose instead” to quote that great crooner; coat the sweet tooth with pudding you’d kill for at Rice To Riches in Little Italy; laugh our heads off at Comedy Cellar on Bleecker St. in the Village; grab a falafel at Mamoun’s (open till 4 AM) after the show; RUN the 12 miles back uptown, to burn off all those calories—JUST KIDDING!!—CAB it back to the hotel; cap the night burning calories the (re-)PRODUCTIVE way… :-*
WINTER: Snow blankets the Big Apple like tinsel on a tree, and we head back to the Park to go ice skating at Wollman Rink; catch the Radio City Christmas Spectacular starring The Rockettes; behold the majestic Tree at Rockefeller Center, while cuddling in the line for their Ice Rink; fly to Switzerland the next day, where a winter wonderland walk down Zurich’s own snow-decked Bahnhofstrasse sets the mood for an ascent by gondola to the peaks of the Swiss Alps, satisfying but two of our lofty European ambitions.
And THAT’S ME in 4,000 characters. Any more info will cost you at least a Wink, if not a coy blink, cuz I'll have to think about our link, at romance's delicate brink, over a pink drink at a skating rink, whether I'll sink cuz you'll fink if I ever stole someone's mink :-( Whether your hair has a kink, or my armor a chink, our ultimate fate will depend on pure coinkydink! :-)
