I’ll start with a little bit about myself. First off, I’m handsome. Very handsome. So handsome, in fact, that people have called me “beautiful” and “gorgeous,” terms typically reserved for beautiful women. That’s how good-looking I am. Whatever. I don’t want to get into which term of beauty best describes my attractiveness, but, rest assured, you will not be disappointed. (I know I never am.) When you first see me without a shirt, you will probably lose your breath a little bit, as if you had just fallen into cold water. Don’t worry, this is normal. Get used to it, because I don’t wear my shirt much. (If you’ve got it, flaunt it.) If I had to name my best asset, I’d probably say everything. My calves are like perfectly cooked turkey legs, you could use my chin as a straight edge while working on a blueprint, and my skin is the color of a perfectly roasted marshmallow. Dozens of people have gotten “lost” in my eyes (I include myself in that count), so consider yourself forewarned! I’m 6 foot, 180 pounds, and the perfection doesn’t stop below the belt, if you know what I mean. I’ve been asked by more than one child to be their new daddy. (Don’t interpret this to mean I like kids—I’m just saying I’m way more handsome than a lot of fathers.) My interests include gazing into lakes, pools, mirrors, freshly waxed cars, shop windows, metal elevator doors, the back of a spoon, and most anything else that’s reflective. Once you see me you’ll understand. I like to think of myself as pretty laid-back and down to earth. I love to travel. Masturbating is also a favorite pastime. My favorite food is pizza.
What I’m looking for: No fatties. Four-twenty-friendly preferred.