What am I about?
I'm about long walks around my block and romantic candlelit dinners. I'm not expressly gay, but I do harbor sympathies to that race. I appreciate fine wines and liquors and love drinking in the bathtub. Sometimes I like to imagine myself an important figure in history, like the swashbuckling Pyhrrus of Epirus, petulantly stomping his way through Italy, or perhaps the Lady Godiva, her long, flowing locks traipsing mischievously round her naughty bits atop her grande bitch-horse.
I've not many friends, and none who know me by name, but I do get on famously with the Mexicans who are trucked into my 'hood every year round this time to pluck our bushes clean of gooseberries. They always leave after a few weeks, though, and never do the same ones return. I will never forget Alvarro, who came into my life two years ago and left just as quickly, my "little cherub from the Yucatan", with his infectious laugh and his knowledge of terrace-work. He had, quite literally, two left feet so that when he walked he listed a bit to the right and always wound up several hundred feet off course.
I habitually snort when I talk, because I feel it's a superior affect and works to my advantage, especially while procuring commestibles at the local Giant. I once talked the cashier down 30 cents on a box of Kung Fu Panda cereal when the store had a freeze on special offers. The other customers applauded.
I do admit that I've paid people to beat me. It is an enormously enriching, fulfilling and cathartic experience to have a big, strapping man, usually black, grab me by the ears and pound my face into a brick wall, just before the point of the cranium being shattered. Gonad crushing, liver bruising and vertebral compression are all part of the package. It rocks my world and usually costs no more than a couple hundred dollars. Much better than tawdry sex with the wife.
I do have a wife and six kids, but they are estranged and I suspended relations with them after they formally met with the Dalai Lama (whom I am viscerally opposed to on sartorial and endocrine grounds.)
So that's what I'm about. What are you about?