Possible OKcupid profile. What do you think?

When you look into my eyes, you’ll be transported to a Tahitian sunset played out on a retina-resolution iPad 3 screen as you sit on a couch balanced atop Bank of America Building’s spire. I’ll tell you the name of every building we see in front of us. I’ll even sing for you, why not, and you’ll think Dewitt Clinton came back from the dead after a very passionate affair with Maria Callas in Heaven.

My hair is 84% of the goodness in me, and I’ve accepted that. It’s on limits. In fact, hand-on-hair contact turns me into a bowl of jello. Your move.

When I smile, your soul will be delighted to 4th of July fireworks, but without the crowds and 2 mile hike west through midtown tundra to get to the Hudson for Macy’s bonanza. No, this will be right across a dinner table. Anytime. You and me. Hell, bring your friends, I’ll bring mine, and we’ll make a party out of our interest in each other. Just know I’m ending the night alone with you.

I listen like a bat, which is to say intently, usually as I flit about the room to constantly gauge our surroundings. I’ll care about your day. In fact, I’ll be so into asking questions about your day, I’ll never get around to telling you about my covert FBI assignment where I root out price gouging by bodegas on fabric softener. That’s good, though, since that’s top secret.

Oops.

If there’s music on, I’m dancing. If something is an acquired taste, I probably haven’t acquired it.

I read stuff, like books and the New Yorker. I listen to stuff, like Fresh Air, Howard Stern, The Moth, This American Life, Planet Money. I watch stuff like the Daily Show, Colbert, HBO, Showtime, 60 Minutes. In essence, I’m a consumer. A massive consumer, and none of it gets in my way of being a late-night vigilante.

Do you know who Walt Mossberg is? Probably not, right? Good, because I know more than Walt Mossberg, and I’d be your boyfriend not some reporter with an Apple fetish. So, phone suggestions? Yeah, I’ve got ‘em. Looking for a new computer? I’ll find that deal. There must be an app that does this thing? Right. I’ll know about it. What’s the different between 4G and 3G and LTE? Don’t worry about it, I’ll be holding you in a massive technology-threaded hammock of support.

I have a real job doing important stuff, lots of amazing siblings, 4 novels (unpublished), an album (dropped), lots of instagram followers, speak other languages, have a chemical engineering degree from MIT, grew up in Spain, have a part-time dog… but you can get to know about that when we get together and fall quickly in love, delete our OKCupid accounts and fucking get on with getting on in life to the good stuff like unconditional support and kids and stuff. Yeah, that’s what I’m looking for, so if you just want to play with my hair and not call me 5 minutes later when you get in the taxi, this is the wrong profile for you. I’m intense with my interest. You should be, too, so it’s not an acid and a base meeting. (Quite honestly, this will be a success if, one day, we love each other as much as I love science.)

That brings us to you. I’m looking for someone positive, with a clear path in life. I don’t care if it’s becoming the best juggler in the world or opening your own law firm, be working to something so I get caught up in the passion. I want someone who can accept help, because I can help. Please don’t let the little stuff bring you down. Find me interesting. When in doubt, give me the benefit of the doubt. Have a good reason for being in NYC - we all should. Love exploring the city. Care about your mind. Care about your body. Care about your impact on this planet. Want to wear heels once or twice a year. Have a passion for learning. Appreciate a nice sunset, a well written line of dialog, the incredibly sexy laws of physics and the wonder that is little humans (children). Let’s make pies and take great photos. (I’ve never made a pie.) This atheist will support you in any religious choice you’ve made/make/will make. I’ll probably even go to services with you. They tend to have nice music there.

I’m not perfect. I’ve been told I snore, but that’s usually in bed (rarely on the subway) and you’ll probably get over the snoring thing real quick because I provide the man-made heat of 4,000 furnaces that will keep you warm even in the coldest winters. I’m powered by renewable resources, mainly hummus and laughter.

In fact, I’m a pretty poor sleeper, which will probably be a bonus since I’ll get up before you and read the world’s news, only deliver to you what you’d find relevant when you finally rise. Breakfast would be ready for you. I hate coffee, but I’ll make you the perfect cup. I’ll even do the dishes.

I have a gap in my bottom teeth that some related to me have called “disgusting.” I dress frumpy because I don’t know any better. Finding pants that fit me is like finding a match on OKcupid. It seems like it’s a possibility, but feels highly unlikely.

Finally, the last thing I’m not good at is online dating. I don’t drink alcohol or coffee. I don’t eat meat. I don’t smoke. I’ve already fallen out of your search criteria, yet here I am, the greatest man you’ve never met.