I am married with three kids. When I worry that I’m not spending enough time with my wife and kids, I forget about my work and hang out with my family, only to feel guilt that I’m not putting enough time into my business, or doing enough to please my clients.
I am a 39-year-old man with the self esteem of a 16-year-old girl. I feel a tiny sting of jealousy in my head whenever someone I like has fun with someone else. I am easily offended if the person I am talking to doesn’t make an effort to listen to me. I have a deep-seeded need to be liked by everyone around me, coupled with abject fear of rejection. However, I find it difficult to strike up and maintain meaningful conversation with anyone.
I write in short, choppy sentences.
I am a hopeless romantic, with an emphasis on the word “hopeless”. I have fallen in love with every woman I’ve met, even if only for a second. I flirt randomly with adult women of all ages, although it’s only flirtation in my head–to an observer (including the woman) it’s just normal everyday chit chat.
In my own head I am a writer and a poet, yet I find it difficult to cobble together decent copy for my own web site. Hundreds of times I have started “my big novel”, never to get past the first page. NaNoWriMo? I love the idea, but have too many time commitments already.
I love to play the piano, but hardly ever do. I love to read, but never find the time.
I dream grand and elegant dreams. I am an astronaut; a world explorer; sharp-shooter; lover; archeologist; boxer; entrepreneur; entomologist; dancer in a Walt Disney World parade. I am Walter Mitty.
I want to be hugged by someone who understands me.
I enjoy baring my soul anonymously online, but only if I have a big deadline on a project the next day.