Fact & Fiction

Feeling inspired, I decided to mozy on over to my neighborhood Starbucks with my laptop and what was left of my $50 gift card from Stan. To my surprise, I had just enough credit to buy myself a caramel and whipped cream-laced mocha and the last hunk of coffee cake, which added some sunshine to my rainy afternoon. I grabbed my goods when my name was called and spied the perfect seat in the corner - an extra wide armchair up against the wall, yet facing the action, which meant that I could people watch on the sly and write shit about folks without worrying about someone being able to read over my shoulder. I set up shop, got comfy, and in walked Atlas. I knew it was him, all tall, strong and handsome. Plus the fact that it was raining domestic pets outside meant that no one was holding up the heavens and, um, that's his job.
"You must be Atlas," I said
"And you the lovely Aprhodite," he said. "Where have you been??"
I closed my laptop, folded my hands and said "Waiting. Now, tell me...what have I missed?"

He's 37, a fire investigator, a shower singer and lover of Jimi Hendrix. He's originally from Tennessee, can't play the guitar, although he'd like to learn someday, not musically inclined, never married, no children, 6'6 , lives with his dog in Monrovia, and has a women's shoe fetish.
Stay tuned, hopefully we'll hang out again soon.