White house black market burr ridge

So my question is this... If I wanted to bid for the dark shaman set that drops from siege of ogrimmar and that is on the BMAH sometimes, on like my hunter or my druid who are max level and are able to access the black market auction house. Would I be able to then mail the set to my shaman who isn't max level yet? My shaman is lvl 65...
Mainly trying to figure out if it's worth even making a bid on it.

It was Danvers who finally pushed him in. We’d been feeding the fire with hardwood since the afternoon and it had gotten big as the wind picked up by nightfall, flickering cross our faces and warming our cheeks better than a gas heater. He didn’t even scream when he fell. The flames just swallowed him up—sparks shooting out like hot vomit. He knew what he’d done. He knew it was wrong. When he lifted himself up and came out of the fire he stood dead still, staring at us, smiling like we’d done him a favour. Maybe he thought he deserved to turn into ash. Maybe he did deserve it. I know I kept my fingers tight round the handle of the axe just the same till he keeled over and Cauley had touched the corpse with his foot and we knew he was dead. The three of us, we kept silent for a long while after that. There was just the sound of wood burning and it was better that way. None of us touched the body but none of us looked away, either: you could still make out his face, unmistakable, when the rest of him was dark and formless. He was a face on a pile. Then the wind started taking bits and pieces and carrying them away. Like I told the police, he didn’t touch me, but I knew some of the kids he’d done it to. He’d done it to Danvers. I remember once when all the other kids were gone, I’d stayed after class, Mr Gregor bent himself close to my ear and told me the real story. “You’re a wicked one,” he said when he was done, “just like Don Whitman.”
They used to scare us with Don Whitman, the adults: the other teachers, our parents, the priest. But no one ever explained it. They’d just say, “You better do what we want or else Don Whitman will come back and get you.” Mr Gregor was the only one ever to tell it to me with details. He told it different, too. He said he remembered because he was the same age as Don Whitman and they went to the same school. He said that what the others say they remember is like Cain and Abel or Little Red Riding Hood. Even the landscape tells the fairy tale. After it happened, Don Whitman’s school got torn down, then his house. And the bells in the Church got changed: the ones they rang after Elizabeth Cartwell had come back hysterical with the news.
You can’t tear down or change a man’s memory, Mr Gregor told me.
Once you see, it’s forever.
Elizabeth Cartwell’s parents moved away as soon as the police investigation finished. A lot of people moved away. But Mr Gregor showed me a newspaper from Hill City, North Dakota from some years later. The paper was yellow but you could read the black print fine. The story was about a girl who’d killed herself. The photo was of Elizabeth Cartwell. As he held it out for me to see, his hand shook and I felt his breath grow warmer against the skin around my neck. Nothing made him shake as much as what happened to Elizabeth Cartwell, not even the details.
Don Whitman was seventeen when he did it. He was handsome, with wide shoulders and played football. All the girls liked him. He was going to go to college. Maybe that’s why they thought he was ready: they thought he was a man. They thought he’d be with them. It was a school night when they woke him and drove out to the old pumping station, so that he could see everything for himself. They wanted to make him a part of it just like they were. If he saw, he would want it just like they did. I was always told that he drove out there by himself, but Mr Gregor told me that’s part of the lie. He said Don Whitman’s father was in the car with the mayor and the chief of police. He said, “How would he have found the place by himself—why would he have gone looking?”
The place is in a wood not far from the border. Of course, the whole underground is filled with cement now, but you can still see where the opening used to be: a fat tube sticking out of the ground, just big enough for a man to crawl down into. There was a hatch on it then, and thick locks. The hatch was sound-proof. If you stood right beside it, you couldn’t hear a thing, but as soon as you opened the hatch you could smell the insides and hear the moans start to drift upwards into the world. A steel ladder led down. Mr Gregor says they all knew about it, everyone: all the adults. They’d all been down that ladder. All of them had seen it.
Don Whitman went down the ladder, too. He must have smelled the insides grow stronger and heard the moaning echo louder with every rung but he kept going. On the ground above, his father spoke to the mayor and they both felt proud. Don Whitman must have been more scared of coming up and disappointing them than of not going down to the limit. But when he reached the bottom, the very bottom, and put his feet to the hard concrete and saw it before his own eyes, something inside of him must have broken—
“They sugarcoat it and they make a child’s game of it because they’re too scared to remember the truth,” Mr Gregor told me. “They can’t forget it, but it’s a stain to them, so they cover it up and pretend that everything’s clean.”
Don Whitman saw the vastness of the interlocking chambers and, within them, the writhing, ecstatic, swollen no-people of the underground, human-like but non-human, cross-bred mammals draped in plaster-white skin pinned to numb faces, men, women and children, male and female, naked, scared, dirty, with humans—humans Don Whitman knew and recognized—among them, on them and under them, hitting them, squeezing them, making them hurt, making monstrous sounds with them, all under slowly rotating heat lamps, all open and together, one before another, and then someone, someone Don Whitman knew, must have put a hand on Don Whitman’s shoulder and Don Whitman would have asked, “But what now, what am I supposed to do?” and then, from somewhere deep within the chambers, from a place not even Don Whitman would ever see, a voice answered:
“Anything.”
Mr Gregor pulled away from me and I felt my body turn cold. Icy sweat crawled under my collar and below my thighs.
I’d been told Don Whitman had found the old pumping station and lured the police to it, that they’d called others—including Don Whitman’s father—to talk him out of any violence, but that he’d snapped and murdered them all without firing a single shot, with his bare hands, and dumped the bodies into the metal pipe sticking out of the ground, the one just wide enough for a man to fit through. Then he’d disappeared. It wasn’t until days later that Elizabeth Cartwell found the bodies and there was never any sign of Don Whitman after that. The manhunt failed. So the church bells rang, the school was torn down, the pipe was filled in and, ever since, the adults scare their children with the story of the high school boy who’d done a terrible, sinful thing and vanished into thin air.
“And why would she decide to go out there?” Mr Gregor asked—meaning Elizabeth Cartwell—his eyes dead-set through a window at the raining world outside. “It’s as transparent as a sheet of the Bible, every word of it. They all pretend to believe because they’ve all made it up together. But the police reports, the testimony, the news stories, the court records, the verdict: a sham, a falsification made truth because a thousand people and a judge repeat it, word-for-word, every night before bed.”
I tried to stand but couldn’t. My heart was pounding me back into the chair. I was thinking about my mother and father. I had only enough courage for one question, so I asked, “What happened to the no-people?”
Mr Gregor turned suddenly and laughed so fierce the rain lashed the windows even harder. He came toward me. He put a delicate hand on each of my shoulders. He bent forward until his lips were almost touching mine and, his eyes staring at me like one stares at the Devil, said:
“Buried in the concrete. Buried alive, buried dead—”
I pushed him away.
He stumbled backward without losing his balance.
I forced myself off the chair, praying that my legs would keep. My knees shook but held. In front of me, Mr Gregor rasped for air. A few long strands of his thin hair had fallen across his forehead. He was sweating.
“He was a coward, that little boy, Don Whitman. Without him, we wouldn’t need to live under the whip of elaborate lies designed by weaker people turned away and shamed by the power of the natural order of things. They trusted him, and he betrayed us all. The fools! The weakling! Imagine,” Mr Gregor hissed, “just imagine what we could have had, what we could have experienced down there, at the very bottom, in the chambers...”
His eyes spun and his chest heaved as he grew excited, but soon he lost his venom and his voice returned to normal.
Finally, he said without any nastiness, “You’re a wicked one, just like Don Whitman.”
And I ran out.
Danvers prodded me awake. I must have fallen asleep during the night because when I opened my eyes it was morning already. The sun was up and the flames gone, but the fire was still warm. Mr Gregor’s dead face still rested atop a pile of ashes. Cauley was asleep on the dirt across from us. I could tell Danvers hadn’t slept at all. He said he’d been to a farmhouse and called the police. We woke up Cauley and talked over what we’d say when they got here. We decided on something close to the truth: Mr Gregor had taken the three of us camping and, when he tried to do a bad thing, we put up a fight and knocked him into the flames. Cauley said it might be suspicious because of how easily Mr Gregor had burned, but Danvers said that some people were like that—they burned quick and whole—so we needn’t say a word about the gasoline. When the police came, they were professional and treated us fair, but when they took me aside to talk to me about the accident, every time I tried to tell them about the bad things Mr Gregor had done, they wouldn’t hear it, they just said it was a shame there’d been an accident and someone had died.
At home, I asked my parents whether Mr Gregor was a bad person for what he’d done to Danvers and others. My mother didn’t say anything. My father looked at me like he was looking at the Devil himself and said morality was not so simple and that people had differing points of view and that, in the end, much depended not on what you did, but who you did it to—like during the war, for example. There were some who deserved to be done-to and others whose privilege it was to do. Then he picked up his magazine and told me it was best not to think about such things at all.
I did keep thinking about them, and about Don Whitman, too. When I got to high school, I was too old to scare with monsters, but once in a while I’d hear one of the adults tell a kid he better do as he’d been told or Don Whitman would come back and get him. I wondered if maybe people scare others with monsters they’re most scared of themselves. I even thought about investigating: taking a pick-axe to the pumping station and cracking through concrete or investigating records of how much of it had been poured in there. But I figured the records could have been fixed and one person with a pick-axe wouldn’t get far before the police came and I didn’t trust them anymore. I also had homework to worry about and I started seeing a girl.
I’d almost forgotten about Don Whitman by the time my mother sent me out one evening with my dad’s rifle to hunt down a coyote she said had been attacking her hens. I took a bike, because it was quiet, and was roaming just beyond town when I saw something kick up dust in a field. I shot at it, missed and it scurried off. I pedaled after it until it seemingly disappeared into nowhere. I kept my eye firm on the spot I saw it last and when I got close enough, I saw there was a small hole in the ground there. I stuck the rifle in and the hole felt bigger on the inside, so I stomped all around till the hole caved and where there’d been a mouse-sized hole now there was an opening a grown man could fit through. It seemed deep, which made me curious, because there aren’t many caves around here, so I stuck my feet in but still couldn’t feel the bottom. I slid in a little further, and further still, and soon the opening was above my head and I was inside with my whole body.
It was dark but I could feel the ground sloping. When my eyes accustomed to the gloom, I saw enough to tell there was a tunnel leading into the depths and that it was big enough for me to crawl through. I didn’t have a light but I knew it was important to try the hole. Maybe there were no-people at the bottom. Mostly, though, I didn’t think—I expected: that every time I poked ahead with the rifle, I’d hit earth and the tunnel would be done.
That never happened. I descended for hours. The tunnel grew narrower and the slope sharpened. Fear tightened around my chest. I lost track of time. There wasn’t enough space to turn my body around and I’d been descending for so long it was foolish to backtrack. Surely, the tunnel led somewhere. It was not a natural tunnel, I told myself, it must lead somewhere. I should continue until I reached the end, turn around and return to the surface. The trick was to keep calm and keep moving forward.
And I was right. Several hours later the tunnel ended and I crawled out through a hollow in the wall of a huge grotto.
I stood, stretched my limbs and squinted through the dimness. I couldn’t see the other end of the grotto but the wall curved so I thought that maybe if I went along I might get to the other end. My plan of an immediate return to the surface was on hold. I had to see what lived here. Images of no-people raced through my head. I readied my rifle and proceeded, slowly at first. Where the tunnel had been packed dirt and clay, the walls and floor of the grotto were solid rock. There was moisture, too. It flowed down the walls and gathered in depressions on the floor.
Although at first the wall felt smooth, soon I began to feel a texture to it—like a washboard. The ceiling faded into view. The grotto was getting smaller. And the texture was becoming rougher, more violent. I was thinking about the texture and Mr Gregor’s burnt body when a sound sent me sprawling. My elbow banged against the rock and I nearly cried out. My heart was beating like it had beaten me into my chair in the classroom. The sound was real: faint but clear and echoing. It was the sound of continuous and rhythmic scratching.
I crawled forward, holding the rifle in front. The scratching grew louder. I thought about calling out, but suddenly felt foolish to believe in no-people or anything of that kind. It seemed more sensible to believe in large rodents or coyotes with sharp teeth. I could have turned back, but the only thing more frightening than a monster in front is a monster behind, so I pulled myself on.
In fact, I was crawling up a small hill and, when I had reached the top, I looked down and there it was:
His was a human body. Though hunched, he stood on human legs and scratched with human hands. His movements were also clearly a man’s movements. There was nothing feminine about them. His half-translucent skin was grey, almost white, and taut; and if he had any hair, I didn’t see it. His naked body was completely smooth. I looked at him for a long time with dread and disgust. His arms didn’t stop moving. Whatever they were scratching, they kept scratching. Even when he turned and his head looked at me, even as I—stunned—frozen in terror, recoiled against the wall, still his arms kept moving and his hands clawing.
For a few seconds, I thought he’d seen me, that I was done for.
I gripped the rifle tight.
But as I focused on his face, I realized he hadn’t seen me at all. He couldn’t see me. His face, so much like a colourless swollen skull, was punctuated by two black and empty eye sockets.
He turned back to face the wall he was scratching. I turned my face, too. The texture on the wall was his. The deeper the grooves, the newer the work. I put down the rifle and put my hand on the wall, letting my fingers trace the contours of the texture. It wasn’t simple lines. The scratching wasn’t meaningless. These were two words repeated over and over, sometimes on top of each other, sometimes backwards, sometimes small, sometimes each letter as big as a person, and they were all around this vast underground lair, everywhere you looked—
Two words: Don Whitman.
He’d made this grotto. I felt feverish. The sheer greatness, the determination needed to scratch out such a place with one’s bare hands. Or perhaps the insanity—the punishment. If I hadn’t been sitting, a wave of empathy would have knocked me to the wet, rocky floor. I picked up the rifle. I could put Don Whitman out of his misery. I lifted the rifle and pointed it at the distant figure writing his name pointlessly into the wall. With one pull of the trigger, I could show him infinite mercy. I steadied myself. I said a prayer.
Don Whitman stopped scratching and wailed.
I bit down on my teeth.
I hadn’t fired yet.
He grabbed his head and fell to his knees. The high-pitched sound coming from his throat was unbearable. I felt like my mind was being ripped apart. I dropped the rifle and covered my ears. Again, Don Whitman turned. This time with his entire body. He crawled a few steps toward me—still wailing—before stopping and falling silent. He raised his head. Where before had been just eye sockets now there were eyes. White, with irises. Somehow, they’d grown.
He got to his feet and I was sure that he could see me now. He was staring at me. I called his name:
“Don Whitman!”
He didn’t react. Thoughts raced through my mind: what should I do once he comes toward me? Should I defend myself or should I embrace him?
But he didn’t step forward.
He took one step back and lifted his long fingers to his face. His nails, I now saw, were thick and curved as a bird’s talons. He moved them softly from his forehead, down his cheeks and up to his eyes, into which, without warning, he pressed them so painfully that I felt my own eyes burn. When he brought his fingers back out, in each hand he held a mashed and bleeding eyeball. These he put almost greedily into his mouth, one after the other, then chewed, and swallowed.
Having nourished his body, he returned to the wall and began scratching again.
As I watched the movements of his arms, able to follow the pattern of the letters they were carving, I no longer felt like killing him. If he wanted to die, he could die: he could forego water, he could refuse to eat. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to keep scratching his name into the walls of this grotto: Don Whitman, Don Whitman, Don Whitman…
I watched him for a long time before I realized that I would have to get to the surface soon. People would begin to worry. They might start looking for me. And as much as I needed to know the logic behind Don Whitman’s grotto, I also needed food. I couldn’t live down here. I couldn’t eat my own eyes and expect them to grow back. Eventually, I would either have to return to the world above or die.
I put my hand on the grotto wall and began to mentally retrace my steps. A return would not be difficult. All I would need to do was follow—
That’s when I knew.
The geography of it hit me.
The hole I’d entered was on the outskirts of town. The tunnel sloped toward the town. That meant this grotto was below the town. The town hall, the bank, the police station, the school—all of it was lying unknowingly on top of a giant expanding cavity. One day, this cavity would be too large, the town would be too heavy, and everything would collapse into a deep and permanent handmade abyss. Don Whitman would bury the town just as the town had buried the no-people. Everything would be destroyed. Everyone would die. That was Don Whitman’s genius. That was his life’s work.
I picked up the rifle and faced Don Whitman for the final time.
He must have known that I was there. He’d heard me and had probably seen me before he pulled out his eyes, yet he just continued to scratch. Faced with death, he kept working.
As I stood there, I had no doubt that, left in peace, Don Whitman would finish his project. His will was too powerful. The result would be catastrophic. It was under these assumptions that I made the most moral and important decision of my life:
I walked away.

So my question is this... If I wanted to bid for the dark shaman set that drops from siege of ogrimmar and that is on the BMAH sometimes, on like my hunter or my druid who are max level and are able to access the black market auction house. Would I be able to then mail the set to my shaman who isn't max level yet? My shaman is lvl 65...
Mainly trying to figure out if it's worth even making a bid on it.

Hello everyone! My vehicle needs some pretty serious work done, so unfortunately I need to let go of some games from my personal collection. All of these games have been played by me, personally, so I can confirm full functionality. Disc-based games are all in good condition disc-wise, with only light scratches, if any. Any defects will be noted. Payment through Paypal invoice/goods and services. Shipping/tracking through USPS. Prices listed are including the shipping cost. Descriptions, photos and prices all listed below. Please feel free to make offers, or inquire about bundles! Please keep market value in mind. I did my best to undercut eBay sold/active listings. :)
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• Gameboy Player & Disc (GCN) (CIB) (PHOTOS)- Super nice example! Gameboy player is clean, and the disc has the sleeve, case and insert! Works great. $225 Shipped
• Gamecube Gameboy Link Cable (Loose) (OEM) (PHOTOS) - Great shape! No flaws. $15 Shipped
• Black Super Smash Bros Official Gamecube Controller (Loose) (PHOTOS) - Great shape! No drift. Used very rarely. $38 Shipped
• White Super Smash Bros Official Gamecube Controller (Loose) (PHOTOS) - Great shape! No drift. Used very rarely. $45 Shipped
• Half Life (PS2) (No manual) (PHOTOS) - Disc and art are in super clean shape! One of the best games of all time. Unfortunately no manual with it. $32 Shipped
• Psychonauts (PS2) (CIB) (PHOTOS) - Beautiful example! Everything about this copy is super clean, feels like it just came out of the plastic. $37 Shipped
• Silent Hill 2 (PS2) (CIB) (PHOTOS) - Nice copy! Unfortunately the disc has a blockbuster clear sticker on the front, but she plays just fine. Manual, cover art and the play-side of the disc are super clean. $100 Shipped
• Silent Hill 3 (PS2) (CIB w/ soundtrack!) (PHOTOS) - Another excellent copy, unfortunately the back cover of the case is a bit torn. Didn't effect the cover art at all. Art, manual and discs are all in great shape! $140 Shipped
• Def Jam Fight For NY (PS2) (CIB) (PHOTOS) - Beautiful copy. One of the best games of all time. Manual shows a bit of wear (just slight creases), but the cover art and disc are great! $150 Shipped
• Donkey Kong Country (GBC) (CIB) (PHOTOS) - So clean. Looks like it came out of the plastic yesterday! Cardboard still feels strong and new, and all inserts are intact. $70 Shipped
• Donkey Kong Country 2 (GBA) (CIB) (PHOTOS) - This one is just as clean as the other. Looks like it was bought yesterday. Cardboard is nice and strong, and crease-free. All inserts are intact and really clean! $70 Shipped
• Zelda Four Swords Adventures (GBA) (Cart only) (PHOTOS) - Great shape! Cart, label and motherboard are all perfect. Holds a save, and plays perfectly. $27 Shipped
• Mario Kart Super Circuit (GBA) (Cart only) (PHOTOS) - Great shape! Cart, label and motherboard are all perfect. Saves and plays just fine. $22 Shipped
• Banjo-Kazooie Grunty's Revenge (GBA) (Cart only) (PHOTOS) - Great shape! Cart, label and motherboard are all perfect. Saves and plays just fine. $18 Shipped
• Japanese Gen 3 Pokemon GBA SP Faceplates (GBA SP) (PHOTOS) - These are pretty hard to find these days, and they look so good on an SP. Each of them have one delicate clip, but they still clip on just fine. It's not noticeable when they're clipped, either. Images are in good shape as well. $60 EACH Shipped

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THANKS FOR TAKING A LOOK! :)

Greetings fellow flesh being;
To try and keep it short; this year has been off to a relatively rough and busy start. I thought of trying to give this a go since I've missed having a favorite online distraction.
I am a great listener. I'll be more than happy to lend a friendly ear should you ever need to vent or just talk about absolutely anything under the sun. I am a bit of a nerd when it comes to a lot of things and quite open minded. I've actually missed having those long, late night phone calls that could get deep at one moment, but be totally random the next. So calls could always be an option down the line too, although not a necessity.
If you don't mind having a virtual friend, who's flirty and potentially an online FWB as well as a pen-pal with whom you can engage with throughout the day whenever time permits, feel free to reach out. You'd be keeping this professional over-thinker busy and out of his own head.
A little about me: - I'm 33 - I work for a social media marketing firm as a business development and project manager - I'm studying (or at least trying to) for my certification in counseling and psychotherapy on the side. - Fairly average built, 6'1", black hair and brown eyes.
Interests: - Art, music (different genres from classical, to rock, to house and everything in between) - Science - I'm a bit of a nerd if you haven't guessed yet.
I should probably emphasize, so as to not waste anyone's time, that I'm not looking for anything too serious. At least for now. But we can definitely see how it goes.
P.S. I'm only interested in people around my age or older (30-40)
Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

Question for people who also sell/buy on DCS. When is the ideal time to post? When are you looking to buy on a regular basis? Also have you noticed the formatting failing recently? I used to be able to copy and paste my previous posts and just remove the ones I've sold. Now it bunches everything up and the bulletpoints no longer function. I had to bring an older version into a word proccessor. Just werid and frustrating.
Trying to clear out my codes! If someone wants to buy every single code for a deep discount HMU I’ll sell orders of $100 or more for 40% OFF, $200 for 50% OFF, $300 for 60% OFF, $400 for 70% OFF and $500 for 75% OFF!!
Just went through and dropped some prices! Not interested in discussing discounts on single codes.
Codes Never Split
Paypal f+f
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Hey, so real quick I don't believe, and have never believed, in the paranormal. Also, bit of a long one sorry. However, I have always enjoyed reading about paranormal/spiritual stuff. When i was a kid I remember always getting new Goosbumps books from the book fair and giving myself nightmares for a couple days lol. Anyways, I'm 25 now and due to depression and some other factors my memory isn't the best, and this happened a long time ago. But I remember it all pretty clearly, and I would like your help potentially finding a book.
I was probably around 10 years old, and my grandparents had just finished building their new house, the house they currently live in. We live in Georgia and they got 20-something acres in the middle of nowhere, and built a nice big 3 story (two finished and a basement) house in the middle of the woods, on top of a pretty big hill. The ground floor is where the kitchen is, the living rooms, 2 bed rooms, most of the house is really. Then theres a long staircase up to the second floor, where theres a long hallway and 2 bedrooms at the end, one small and one large. At the time, my dad was staying with them while he figured his shit out, so we would go up there often to visit and stay the night.
I would normally sleep in the big room with my dad, cause they had a huge bed in there and a tv, and then my sister would sleep in the other room. The big room also had a couple bookshelves with random old southern white people books, such as books on farming, plant geneology, family history, etc. But they also had little kids books from when my dad and aunt were little kids. There was also a big shelf thing in the far corner next to the tv that had small paintings on glass shelves, and a cabinet at the bottom. Well one night my grandmother is tucking us in to bed and asks if i want something to read. I say yes, so she goes and pulls out this thin yellow kids book from the shelf, and tells me its a collection of spooky campfire stories for children. Right up my alley.
My dad passes out in the bed next to me immediately, as per usual, and i start reading some of the stories. Most of them are pretty lame, even by 10 year old standards, and they are also all quite dated as far as language goes. Just very flowery and old school. Then, i find a story thats written kind of like a poem, and has a small black and white image with it on the next page. The image is of a young boy on the beach, and he seems sad. I start reading this story, right, and i swear to god it goes like this (kind of, it was a long time ago).
In the middle of the big big wood, at the top of the tall tall hill, stood a large large house. And in the large large house was a tall tall staircase, that led to a long long hall, and then a big big room. And in the corner of the big big room was a dark dark chest, that held a deep deep painting.
And then i forget the wording, but it describes a young boy (that very much resembles me) venturing into this house (that very much resembles my grandparents'), and finding this chest in the corner of the room (that very much resembles the one im in). And he opens it and finds a painting of the sea. He gets sucked in and trapped in the painting, and drowns never to be found again. I tell you, i had never looked at that cabinet in the corner with such fear. I couldnt make myself go open it, and still never have.
Pretty fucked up right?
Well obviously i sleep rather poorly that night, and little socially awkward me doesnt bring it up for a while. Like a couple years. But eventually im a teenager and im staying the night, and i think to myself "i should go find that book again and see if its actually that accurate" cause nothing but the dust has been taken out of that room since they moved in. And wouldnt you fucking know it, it isn't there. The next day i ask my grandmother about it, and she has no memory of such a book every existing much less being in her possession. Neither does my dad, or my grandfather or aunt. Literally no one.
So yeah. If you could help me identify this book that would help me mentally.

Jesi had never been in a hotel before certainly not one as fine as the one Mr Ericson took her and Damion too. They had a suite all to themselves it had two bedrooms connected to a living room, and kitchen. The hotel room was larger then the apparent she used to share with her mama all those years ago. Damion shared a room with Mr. Ericson but for the first time in her life Jesi had a room all to herself. She thought it would feel secure, but she still slept with a knife under her pillow. Still the bed was so soft she felt like it was going to swallow her alive every night. Her nights were one thing but the days were another thing entirely, they were a whirlwind activity. First there was the image coach, a person that Mr. Ericson hired to find a way to make sure Damion and Jesi, both looked nicer then street kids but were still comfortable. Then there was the mountain of paper work and explanations of how her life would change once she signed the papers. Mr. Ecrison said that the press had heard there was an heir to the O’Connal empire but they didn’t have her name or face yet. He was hoping that meant they would have a quite arrival when their plane landed in upstate New York.
He realized he was wrong the moment they entered the airport. Mr. Ericson was shocked to see the number of reporters swarming the gate. He cursed under his breath he’d been so careful he’d even gone out of his way to ask O’Connal’s business partner Constance Karington if they could borrow her family’s private jet to fly the girl in under the radar. With a sigh he squared his shoulders and looked at the two young adults behind him. “You both need to stay quite they will snap photos, shout questions, and shove whatever kind of recording devices they have practically down your throats for a sound bite. Do not give them one.” Mr. Ericson commanded as he lead them toward the crowd. Airport security was already attempting to hold the crowd back. The instant the crowd caught sight of Jesi flashes began to blind them all while the questions started flying
“Miss Jahari is it true you never knew your father?”
“Miss Jahari are you going to sell the company?”
“Miss, Jahari how does it feel to be Cinderella?”
Jesi was proud of herself for not pulling her knife on any of the reporters at the airport. She didn’t like people in general and she certainly wasn’t used to crowds surrounding and recording her. Mr Ericson parted the crowd as best he could and then shoved both Jesi and Damion into a waiting black sedan, with a driver. A short ride later and the small black sedan pulled up to a set of iron gates in the center of a brick wall that surrounded a mansion as big as a castle. The street in front of the wall however was filled bumper to bumper with cars parked on the curb. As the black sedan they were in pulled up to the gates people mobbed the car banging on the windows shouting questions making it hard for the car to move. Mr. Ericson pushed a button on his phone and the gates swung inward admitting the car the driver moved forward slowly through the throng as the gates swung shut behind them. The car pulled up to the front of the house and an older matronly type woman, came rushing out, as Mr. Ericson opened Jesi’s door.
“Ah, let me look at you!” the woman cried out in a thick Irish accent as she looked at Jesi.
“Jesminda Jahari this is your father’s maid and cook Mrs. Mable Mcguil, she has served your father’s family since before I can remember.”
“Aye, your mother must have been a beauty. Why just look at ya! You did get yer Father’s hair though I see, and his eyes.” Mable said as she reached out to brush a strand of red hair from Jesi’s face
“You knew my father?’ Jesi asked
“Knew him? Why I helped his mother raise ‘im I did. Kindest boy you’d ever want to meet. Ack, but he did he ever have a stubborn streak.” Mable added with a laugh
“Mable, my dear, I know you want to get to know Miss Jahari but that’s better left inside I think as the wolves are snapping pictures at the gate.”
“Ack, of course where are my manners, get in here all of ye.” Mable said as she turned to lead the way into the house. Mr. Ericson handed Damion and Jesi the 2 small carry on bags worth of clothes they’d purchased a few days ago, and motioned the two of them to follow Mable inside while he took his own bag from the trunk.
Jesi stepped wide eyed into the large foyer, the floors were a black and gold marble. The walls were a pristine white, with a stair case on either side curving up to the open second floor but what drew Jesi’s eye was a large painting hanging on the wall between the stair cases. A small family of three with a rather severe looking man with blonde hair standing tall a woman beside him with red hair gave anyone who entered a warm welcoming smile. The boy in the front drew jesi in he was around 7 at the time of the painting. Red hair green eyes but the happy smile he gave didn’t quite make it to his eyes. Jesi walked toward the painting staring at the child.
“That’s your father.” Mabel said walking up beside Jesi. “I remember that day clear as a bell yer grandfather insisted on a family portrait sitting. Ah, but yer father little scamp that he was was having none of it. All he wanted was to go out and play in the yard. The artist finally got yer grandfather to agree to take a photo to make the painting off of. As soon as he was free Conner went out and rolled through the grass in that fancy suit you see ‘im wearing. Aye but yer Grandfather was in a snit for days over the grass stains.”
“This house is massive.” Jesi said looking around the foyer.”
“Ah, but we do agree on that. To the left You’ll find the kitchen, dinning room, ballroom, bathroom, den, and living room. Through the right door you’ll find the home theater, another bathroom, library, office, gym and indoor pool. Upstairs there are nine bedrooms each with their own on suite bathroom, And the master bedroom has exclusive access to it’s own balcony. The third floor contains the greenhouse conservatory and excellent views.”
“So many rooms for only three people.” Jesi marveled turning a slow circle around the foyer.
“Yes, that was yer Grandfather for ye. The man insisted on showing the world how successful he was by getting the best of everything privet jet, fancy yacht, all the cars, the house. Yer father was a much simpler type He would have been happy with a one room apparent in the city. That’s why he never replaced the privet jet after the crash. He didn’t see a need, said if he was gonna fly it could be commercially, with real people.”
Jesi stood staring at the painting tears burned the back of her throat, as waves of emotion beat at her. Her father sounded like such a good man she wished she could have known him, but right on the heels of that she was so angry, her father lived in such excess while she and her mother had scraped by on nothing. Yet according to Ericson her father had never known that she existed her grandfather had lied to her father to her mother. Jesi choked back the tears and clung to the only emotion that had kept her alive for so long. Anger. “I hate them.” she ground between clenched teeth.
Mabel’s face fell she seemed to be hoping for a more joyful reaction from Jesi, but to her credit she didn’t try to talk the girl out of her pain either. Damion walked over and placed an arm around Jesi’s shoulders. “Mrs. Mcguil, is there a room we can go to for rest and a little privacy?” Damion asked
As soon as the door to the large guest bedroom drifted shut behind them Jesminda let her real feelings be known. She broke into deep sobs and fell into Damion’s arms.
“I don’t- I can’t- How could he- How could they-” Jesi started so many sentences but the jumble of emotion stampeding through her.
“Easy Jes, take a breath.” Damion tried as he held her.
“Why am I morning a man I never met? A man who abandoned me?” Jesi started
“Because he didn’t abandon you not on purpose Jes.”
“I want to hate him. I need to hate him, Why can’t I hate him?” Jesi sobbed
“Your right Jes it’s not fair. None of this is fair. It’s a lot to take in, and neither of us have taken the time to really process this.”
“In the hotel he didn’t seem real, but now… He was my father, and I never knew his name.”
“I know, Jes, it’s not fair.”
“He was stolen from me!”
“Yes he was.”
“This whole life was stolen from me!” Jesi hiccuped
Damion just held her and let her cry. There was so much for them both to process. Jesi was now one of the richest women in the nation, and she had insisted that Damion share her home as the brother he’d been to her since the day they’d met.
Jesi spent the rest of the day in the guest room that was now her bedroom with Damion bouncing between sorrow and anger like a rubber ball. Eventually she cried herself to sleep. Damion had just eased her into the plush bed, when a soft knock sounded on the door.
“Hey, uumm.” Damion stammered he wished he could remember the maid’s name.
“Mabel deary. How is she?” Mabel asked as she tried to look past Daion towards Jesi.
“She’s sleeping.” Damion said protectivily blocking to door.
“I mean her no harm.” Mabel said gently
Damion winced and tried to force himself to relax “Sorry, I know you don’t it’s just…” He trailed off at a loss “I’ve protectd her since she was five. Its just really hard to let that go.”
“Ye love her then?” Mable asked
“Of course.” Damion stopped and then a thought occurred to him “Oh! Oh you mean! No, no we’re not like that. She’s basically the sister I -” he stopped.
“Yer sister?”
“The crash that took my parents. It also killed my five year old sister Amy. Three days later I met Jesi, she looks nothing like Amy, but she was the same age and well I guess I wanted to protect her the way I couldn’t protect my family.”
“Ack, ye poor dear.” Mabel said with tears pooling in her eyes. “She’s safe here though, not a sole can get past the walls without setting off the alarms.”
Damion stiffened “Jesi, doesn’t like loud noises. Not since her mother was shot.”
“She was there?” Mable asked
“I thought Mr. Ericson would have told you?” Damion asked in confusion
“No, he told me who she was and that her mother had been killed but nothing else.”
“Yeah, she was there, her mom had to take her to work that night and, she says all she remembers is her mom stuffing her in a cabinet then she heard someone yell for the manager then the shots.”
“My God! Did she see anything?”
“No the officer on the scene worked really hard to make sure she didn’t see anything, But she’s been really jumpy ever since.”
“Ack, the poor dear. Well it seems there’s nothing more You and I can do for her til she wakes come I’ll show ye to yer room you must be tired as well.”
“I-I can’t leave her I’ll just stay here with her.”
“She’s safe here. Your safe here. You need rest too.”
“And I’ll get it right here beside her.”
“Ye’ve taken care of her for thirteen years, Ye’ve earned a rest and so has she.”
“We rest better together.”
“I’m sure ye do, and you’ll be ale to hear her through the wall if there’s trouble.” Mable encouraged
“I-”
“Yer both safe. She’ll be fine.”
Damion reluctantly followed Mable from the room. Mable made a show of taking a key from her pocket and locking the door to the room she explained that she was the only one with a key to unlock the bedroom doors but that all door could be locked or unlocked from the inside.
The next morning Mable opened Jesminda’s door with a cart of food behind her. “Good moring Miss Jes-” Mable froze as Jesi lept from the bed a knife brandished in her hand it’s tip nearly rested on Mabel’s neck
“Sorry,” Jesi said as she lowered the knife. “Force of habit.”
“Well, I will say that’s a new way to get the blood runnin in the mornin.” Mabel said with a giggle “Is there a reason ye have a knife on ye?”
“I’ve slept with a knife since I was sixteen.”
“And ye haven’t cut yerself?” Mable tried to joke
“No, Sargent Mullens trained me and Damion how to defend ourselves.”
“Sargent Mullens?” Mable asked
“He was staying at the first homeless shelter we crashed at after leaving the home. I was young inexperienced in street life and so excited to have my first shower in weeks I wasn’t careful enough. After I walked into the ladies room a man grabbed me from behind. He clamped his hand over my mouth and put a knife to my throat. I tried to scream to struggle while he cut my clothes off. Sargent Mullens heard the struggle and rushed in. He pulled the man off before anything happened and called for help. The man tried to cut Mullens but he dodged the blade, disarmed him, and held him until the folks that ran the shelter arrived. He told them to bring the guy to the police for sexual assault. After he helped me and Damion disappear when the police showed up and then taught us how to survive on the streets we stayed with him for about 4 months, until he disappeared.”
“That must have been hard on ye both.” Mable said
“It’s life on the street.”
“Jesi!” Damion called out as he rushed into the room.
“Ah and that saves me the trouble of bringing breakfast to ye as well.” Mable said as she motioned to the cart behind her. “I didn’t know yer preferences, so I, well, I made yer Father’s favorites. Bacon, sausage, pancakes, as well as some fruit a selection of juices and, aspirin.”
“How did you know I have a headache?” Jesi asked
“I’ve spent more then a night or two crying meself te sleep. I know the headache ye wake with in the morin all to well. OOP!” Mable said as she pulled her phone from her pocket. “And it seems that Ericson has arrived for the day with company not far behind. Best ye eat up and prepare seems as though yer in for yoru first dose of Constance.”
“Heellloo, Constance Karington,” The tall blonde woman in her early twenties stepped up to Jesi and offered her hand “Your sister.”
“I have a sister?” Jesi asked
“No, you do not.” Ericson answered.
“Oh not a biological sister but Conner was like a second father to me.” Constance said
“That makes one of us.” Jesi griped under her breath
“Oh look at you aren’t you a vision well besides that scare on your neck but don’t you worry my step-mom knows a great plastic surgeon we’ll have that gone in days.”
Jesi rested a self conscious hand over the knife scare on her collar bone.
“I wish you had consulted with me Ms. Karington, Miss Jahri’s schedule is full today.”
“Oh, so I cleared my entire morning of running my very successful company to hang out with my new sister for nothing” Constance protested actually pouting at Ericson.
“I believe you’ll find the company belongs to both of you Ms. Karington, and as I Said if you’d checked with me I could have told you that Miss Jahari’s scheduled is full this morning.”
“Oh come on I’m sure you don’t need a stuffy old man telling you what to do Jesi. You don’t mind if I call you Jesi do you?” Constance’s words dripped with sugar.
“Actually I do mind.” Jesi wasn’t buying Constance’s act for a second. “And Ercison has a full day planned.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do with an open morning Ericson?” Constance tried again
“Since your so keen to have family time I suggest you go connect with your brother.” Ericson suggested
“I suppose I could find Skyler but I look forward to dinner tonight Jesminda.” Constance commanded
“I will contact your office and arrange for a dinner in a few weeks then.” Ericson offered.
“I look forward to it.” Constance said with a smile as she turned to go.
“Oh Ms. Karington I would like to know how our confidential flight itinerary was leaked to the press.” Ericson asked
“Oh right, I have talked to my pilot about that rest assured he’ll be disciplined for his loose lips. Ta.” Constance tossed over her shoulder as she left.
“Who was that?” Damion asked when the door closed behind Constance
“Constance Karington, she is the co CEO of O’Connal and Karington Enterprises.”
“Isn’t she kinda young to be a CEO?” Jesi asked
“She was a child prodigy she graduated high school early and earned her MBA by the time she was 20. Two years ago she convinced her father to entire and hand over his half of the company to her.”
Constance slammed the front door to her family’s home. And let out a frustrated scream.
“I take it your plan to get Cinderella to sign the papers was a bust?” her brother Skyler appeared at the top of the stairs.
“I thought you’d still be sleeping.” Constance griped
“I was until you slammed the door quite rude if I’m honest sister dear.” Skyler, said with a lazy drawl
“Well, tell whoever your current girlfriend is I’m sorry to have disturbed her.” Constance replied with a forced smile
“You can drop the loving sister routine Constance I’m alone today.”
“For once.” Constance laughed sarcastically. “What do Nora find you flirting with a waitress?”
“Her name was Ashley and no, she asked for commitment, and you know I don’t do commitment.”
“Hm. Yet another doe eyed debutante that thought she could marry New York’s most eligible bachelor?”
“Yes you’d think they’d know better by now don’t they all talk?”
“Brother this may surprise you but the world does not actually revolve around you.”
“And it doesn’t serve you sister dear. A fact it seems ‘Cinderella’ reminded you of today.” Skyer gloated
“That company is mine! Conner promised it to me! Then that worthless brainless rat shows up and takes everything from me!” Constance shouted.
“I’m not sure Cinderella showed up isn’t more like Connor hunted her down?”
“Cinderella?” Constance said as a calculating smile slid on to her face
“That look never bodes well.” Skyler observed
“Well, every Cinderella needs her Prince Charming doesn’t she.”
“As I understand it she came with hers did she not?”
“The street rat no he’s more a brother to her as I understand it, but you Brother dear are currently between lovers at the moment.”
“Ha! Don’t even try it. Your little Cinderella is no where near my type.”
“Oh please, she’s beautiful, rich, and a woman that’s exactly your type.”
“Hardly, once a street rat always a street rat!” Skyler objected
“I don’t care, you will romance her get her so infatuated with you that when you tell her it’s in her best interst to sign over the company she’ll comply.”
“And if it can’t.”
“Then you’ll keep it in your pants until you marry her! I will not let some brat swoop in and steal everything I worked my entire life to get!”
“You can’t make me do any of this.”
“Can’t I? Last I checked Brother dear I control your trust fund.”

I apologize as it's a bit of a novel and doesn't quite make grammatical sense in some spots. I can read goodly now and again lol. The reason it says M4R is because I mainly like women and trans women but I also like a very very very specific type of guy and certain trans men as I'm partially bi. Chances are you aren't that type but feel free to ask if you are. (Didn’t want to offend anyone so I’d rather say in private) Just throwing that out there as it's a deal breaker for most women. Which why would it be? The number one reason I get is I'm going to cheat on them with a guy. As if being bi has any bearing on cheating and not the persons character.
I'm a 35 year old guy living in the middle-ish of Texas looking for a female partner. Partner as in LTR. That's Long Term Relationship meaning boyfriend and girlfriend and holding hands type of stuff. You know, adult things? I had someone comment I was too vague so this is me being specific. I'm gonna be honest and kinda sad so bare with me.
So I spent New Years alone (I realize it's June lol but I have yet to meet someone and I think the story is still somewhat relevant). Rang in the New Year in bed staring at the ceiling listening to fireworks go off into the night. The next day I cried randomly while browsing for a movie to watch on TV. At first I didn't know why as I'm not much of a crier but I realized for the first time that I genuinely felt alone. I have no partner, no family that I speak to, no friends just acquaintances, really no one there for me. That's my own doing which took years to accomplish through me being closed off and just shutting people out, so I figure it might take just as long to fix. I'm not complaining as I got myself into this predicament. It's gonna sound dumb but I wanted a New Years kiss. I'd never had one and it seemed like a fun dumb silly thing to do. Eh maybe one day. Ok well back to my spiel. (I'm not depressed or anything or wanting attention) Some of my hobbies and interests are movies, reading, cooking, kayaking, records, video games, board games, snorkeling, bowling, swimming, escape rooms, puzzles and antiquing. I would describe myself as more goofy and dorky than nerdy. I like to go out and do fun things but also stay in and cuddle and relax. I guess it depends on my mood and the weather. I prefer the cold and would love to live in a state with actual seasons and snow. I'm 5'10, stocky AKA fat and open for adventure and new experiences.
Here are some random facts about me:
Some of my favorite bands are: The Black Keys, Kings of Leon, The Beatles, Creedence Clearwater Revival and The White Stripes.
Christmas is my favorite holiday, mainly because of the cold and festive activities.
I come from a medium-ish family.
I'm exceptionally patient but every person has a breaking point lol
I like traveling a lot. It's a basic thing that lots of people like. But I've found lots of people hate to leave their house, town or state so if that's you we probably might not be a good match. I also enjoy the mountains. But I don't like roughing it (give me that sweet AC in the summer). Hiking is so hard on my knees and I haven't done it in a while that if I were to I think about doing it I'd about die or twist a kankle.
I don't eat seafood, mushrooms, artichokes or pineapple on pizza (Who cares about this? Doesn't mean I won't go to a restaurant with you that has these things)
Never went to college as I'm horrible in a classroom setting and at taking tests.
Have probably the most boring job imaginable (Ask me about it)
Overweight but trying to work on it and make better choices (Get healthier and lose weight together maybe?)
Non religious but no issue with what you believe. (If anything)
Looking into sterilization. If you are already maybe you can give me some info or tips?
My own red flags 🚩
I work too much and oftentimes can't talk.
I send selfies often. I'm a visual person and like receiving photos. Apparently it's a generational thing. Hopefully you think pictures are neat as well? Is it really that weird to want to see you and your life and show you mine?
I sometimes speedily become attached to people, not in a weird way, but if I like you and we have some kind of connection, I will enjoy talking to you and want to do it often.
I'm a very organized person and will plan out pretty much anything from a vacation to a road trip to a birthday. This makes being with a go with the flow type of person hard at times I've learned but still very much doable.
Due to childhood trauma I'm secretive which can be annoying.
MY own "HELL YES" 🏁
I know how to cook.
I will always drive if you want. (Within reason)
Great at escape rooms and jigsaw puzzles.
Can read a map.
Decent at reading backwards upside down writing.
What I'm looking for:
Is my age or older. But I'm willing to go quite a bit lower if you are neat and we have stuff in common. But super young isn't my goal here.
Mature, considerate, responsible and funny (Dorky wouldn't hurt)
Someone who never cheats, honesty and trust are important to me.
Someone who is open-minded, willing to try new things, be adventurous, funny and nerdy.
Someone who believes in sharing household chores equally because we are both adults.
Be open and frank about issues you or I are having. Not pushy or jealous. Won't yell or argue about stupid things, I've had enough of that.
Willing to push me to become a better version of myself (Can you turn me into Batman?)
If this sounds like you then feel free to reach out and say hi or challenge me to a game of Scrabble/Pictionary/hand to hand combat maybe? Maybe Wordle or some online vidya game?
P.S. I realize my post isn't for everyone but if your seeing red flags from my post then I'd say trust your gut and please don't message me as we probably aren't compatible. I honestly don't mean that in a mean or hurtful way. I've just been messaged quite often with women saying they pushed aside red flags to get to know me. Please don't, it never ends well and you end up wasting both of our time. Wouldn't you rather spend it finding your person with no flags?

I apologize as it's a bit of a novel and doesn't quite make grammatical sense in some spots. I can read goodly now and again lol. The reason it says M4R is because I mainly like women and trans women but I also like a very very very specific type of guy and certain trans men as I'm partially bi. Chances are you aren't that type but feel free to ask if you are. (Didn’t want to offend anyone so I’d rather say in private) Just throwing that out there as it's a deal breaker for most women. Which why would it be? The number one reason I get is I'm going to cheat on them with a guy. As if being bi has any bearing on cheating and not the persons character.
I'm a 35 year old guy living in the middle-ish of Texas looking for a female partner. Partner as in LTR. That's Long Term Relationship meaning boyfriend and girlfriend and holding hands type of stuff. You know, adult things? I had someone comment I was too vague so this is me being specific. I'm gonna be honest and kinda sad so bare with me.
So I spent New Years alone (I realize it's June lol but I have yet to meet someone and I think the story is still somewhat relevant). Rang in the New Year in bed staring at the ceiling listening to fireworks go off into the night. The next day I cried randomly while browsing for a movie to watch on TV. At first I didn't know why as I'm not much of a crier but I realized for the first time that I genuinely felt alone. I have no partner, no family that I speak to, no friends just acquaintances, really no one there for me. That's my own doing which took years to accomplish through me being closed off and just shutting people out, so I figure it might take just as long to fix. I'm not complaining as I got myself into this predicament. It's gonna sound dumb but I wanted a New Years kiss. I'd never had one and it seemed like a fun dumb silly thing to do. Eh maybe one day. Ok well back to my spiel. (I'm not depressed or anything or wanting attention) Some of my hobbies and interests are movies, reading, cooking, kayaking, records, video games, board games, snorkeling, bowling, swimming, escape rooms, puzzles and antiquing. I would describe myself as more goofy and dorky than nerdy. I like to go out and do fun things but also stay in and cuddle and relax. I guess it depends on my mood and the weather. I prefer the cold and would love to live in a state with actual seasons and snow. I'm 5'10, stocky AKA fat and open for adventure and new experiences.
Here are some random facts about me:
Some of my favorite bands are: The Black Keys, Kings of Leon, The Beatles, Creedence Clearwater Revival and The White Stripes.
Christmas is my favorite holiday, mainly because of the cold and festive activities.
I come from a medium-ish family.
I'm exceptionally patient but every person has a breaking point lol
I like traveling a lot. It's a basic thing that lots of people like. But I've found lots of people hate to leave their house, town or state so if that's you we probably might not be a good match. I also enjoy the mountains. But I don't like roughing it (give me that sweet AC in the summer). Hiking is so hard on my knees and I haven't done it in a while that if I were to I think about doing it I'd about die or twist a kankle.
I don't eat seafood, mushrooms, artichokes or pineapple on pizza (Who cares about this? Doesn't mean I won't go to a restaurant with you that has these things)
Never went to college as I'm horrible in a classroom setting and at taking tests.
Have probably the most boring job imaginable (Ask me about it)
Overweight but trying to work on it and make better choices (Get healthier and lose weight together maybe?)
Non religious but no issue with what you believe. (If anything)
Looking into sterilization. If you are already maybe you can give me some info or tips?
My own red flags 🚩
I work too much and oftentimes can't talk.
I send selfies often. I'm a visual person and like receiving photos. Apparently it's a generational thing. Hopefully you think pictures are neat as well? Is it really that weird to want to see you and your life and show you mine?
I sometimes speedily become attached to people, not in a weird way, but if I like you and we have some kind of connection, I will enjoy talking to you and want to do it often.
I'm a very organized person and will plan out pretty much anything from a vacation to a road trip to a birthday. This makes being with a go with the flow type of person hard at times I've learned but still very much doable.
Due to childhood trauma I'm secretive which can be annoying.
MY own "HELL YES" 🏁
I know how to cook.
I will always drive if you want. (Within reason)
Great at escape rooms and jigsaw puzzles.
Can read a map.
Decent at reading backwards upside down writing.
What I'm looking for:
Is my age or older. But I'm willing to go quite a bit lower if you are neat and we have stuff in common. But super young isn't my goal here.
Mature, considerate, responsible and funny (Dorky wouldn't hurt)
Someone who never cheats, honesty and trust are important to me.
Someone who is open-minded, willing to try new things, be adventurous, funny and nerdy.
Someone who believes in sharing household chores equally because we are both adults.
Be open and frank about issues you or I are having. Not pushy or jealous. Won't yell or argue about stupid things, I've had enough of that.
Willing to push me to become a better version of myself (Can you turn me into Batman?)
If this sounds like you then feel free to reach out and say hi or challenge me to a game of Scrabble/Pictionary/hand to hand combat maybe? Maybe Wordle or some online vidya game?
P.S. I realize my post isn't for everyone but if your seeing red flags from my post then I'd say trust your gut and please don't message me as we probably aren't compatible. I honestly don't mean that in a mean or hurtful way. I've just been messaged quite often with women saying they pushed aside red flags to get to know me. Please don't, it never ends well and you end up wasting both of our time. Wouldn't you rather spend it finding your person with no flags?

I apologize as it's a bit of a novel and doesn't quite make grammatical sense in some spots. I can read goodly now and again lol. The reason it says M4R is because I mainly like women and trans women but I also like a very very very specific type of guy and certain trans men as I'm partially bi. Chances are you aren't that type but feel free to ask if you are. (Didn’t want to offend anyone so I’d rather say in private) Just throwing that out there as it's a deal breaker for most women. Which why would it be? The number one reason I get is I'm going to cheat on them with a guy. As if being bi has any bearing on cheating and not the persons character.
I'm a 35 year old guy living in the middle-ish of Texas looking for a female partner. Partner as in LTR. That's Long Term Relationship meaning boyfriend and girlfriend and holding hands type of stuff. You know, adult things? I had someone comment I was too vague so this is me being specific. I'm gonna be honest and kinda sad so bare with me.
So I spent New Years alone (I realize it's June lol but I have yet to meet someone and I think the story is still somewhat relevant). Rang in the New Year in bed staring at the ceiling listening to fireworks go off into the night. The next day I cried randomly while browsing for a movie to watch on TV. At first I didn't know why as I'm not much of a crier but I realized for the first time that I genuinely felt alone. I have no partner, no family that I speak to, no friends just acquaintances, really no one there for me. That's my own doing which took years to accomplish through me being closed off and just shutting people out, so I figure it might take just as long to fix. I'm not complaining as I got myself into this predicament. It's gonna sound dumb but I wanted a New Years kiss. I'd never had one and it seemed like a fun dumb silly thing to do. Eh maybe one day. Ok well back to my spiel. (I'm not depressed or anything or wanting attention) Some of my hobbies and interests are movies, reading, cooking, kayaking, records, video games, board games, snorkeling, bowling, swimming, escape rooms, puzzles and antiquing. I would describe myself as more goofy and dorky than nerdy. I like to go out and do fun things but also stay in and cuddle and relax. I guess it depends on my mood and the weather. I prefer the cold and would love to live in a state with actual seasons and snow. I'm 5'10, stocky AKA fat and open for adventure and new experiences.
Here are some random facts about me:
Some of my favorite bands are: The Black Keys, Kings of Leon, The Beatles, Creedence Clearwater Revival and The White Stripes.
Christmas is my favorite holiday, mainly because of the cold and festive activities.
I come from a medium-ish family.
I'm exceptionally patient but every person has a breaking point lol
I like traveling a lot. It's a basic thing that lots of people like. But I've found lots of people hate to leave their house, town or state so if that's you we probably might not be a good match. I also enjoy the mountains. But I don't like roughing it (give me that sweet AC in the summer). Hiking is so hard on my knees and I haven't done it in a while that if I were to I think about doing it I'd about die or twist a kankle.
I don't eat seafood, mushrooms, artichokes or pineapple on pizza (Who cares about this? Doesn't mean I won't go to a restaurant with you that has these things)
Never went to college as I'm horrible in a classroom setting and at taking tests.
Have probably the most boring job imaginable (Ask me about it)
Overweight but trying to work on it and make better choices (Get healthier and lose weight together maybe?)
Non religious but no issue with what you believe. (If anything)
Looking into sterilization. If you are already maybe you can give me some info or tips?
My own red flags 🚩
I work too much and oftentimes can't talk.
I send selfies often. I'm a visual person and like receiving photos. Apparently it's a generational thing. Hopefully you think pictures are neat as well? Is it really that weird to want to see you and your life and show you mine?
I sometimes speedily become attached to people, not in a weird way, but if I like you and we have some kind of connection, I will enjoy talking to you and want to do it often.
I'm a very organized person and will plan out pretty much anything from a vacation to a road trip to a birthday. This makes being with a go with the flow type of person hard at times I've learned but still very much doable.
Due to childhood trauma I'm secretive which can be annoying.
MY own "HELL YES" 🏁
I know how to cook.
I will always drive if you want. (Within reason)
Great at escape rooms and jigsaw puzzles.
Can read a map.
Decent at reading backwards upside down writing.
What I'm looking for:
Is my age or older. But I'm willing to go quite a bit lower if you are neat and we have stuff in common. But super young isn't my goal here.
Mature, considerate, responsible and funny (Dorky wouldn't hurt)
Someone who never cheats, honesty and trust are important to me.
Someone who is open-minded, willing to try new things, be adventurous, funny and nerdy.
Someone who believes in sharing household chores equally because we are both adults.
Be open and frank about issues you or I are having. Not pushy or jealous. Won't yell or argue about stupid things, I've had enough of that.
Willing to push me to become a better version of myself (Can you turn me into Batman?)
If this sounds like you then feel free to reach out and say hi or challenge me to a game of Scrabble/Pictionary/hand to hand combat maybe? Maybe Wordle or some online vidya game?
P.S. I realize my post isn't for everyone but if your seeing red flags from my post then I'd say trust your gut and please don't message me as we probably aren't compatible. I honestly don't mean that in a mean or hurtful way. I've just been messaged quite often with women saying they pushed aside red flags to get to know me. Please don't, it never ends well and you end up wasting both of our time. Wouldn't you rather spend it finding your person with no flags?

I apologize as it's a bit of a novel and doesn't quite make grammatical sense in some spots. I can read goodly now and again lol. The reason it says M4R is because I mainly like women and trans women but I also like a very very very specific type of guy and certain trans men as I'm partially bi. Chances are you aren't that type but feel free to ask if you are. (Didn’t want to offend anyone so I’d rather say in private) Just throwing that out there as it's a deal breaker for most women. Which why would it be? The number one reason I get is I'm going to cheat on them with a guy. As if being bi has any bearing on cheating and not the persons character.
I'm a 35 year old guy living in the middle-ish of Texas looking for a female partner. Partner as in LTR. That's Long Term Relationship meaning boyfriend and girlfriend and holding hands type of stuff. You know, adult things? I had someone comment I was too vague so this is me being specific. I'm gonna be honest and kinda sad so bare with me.
So I spent New Years alone (I realize it's June lol but I have yet to meet someone and I think the story is still somewhat relevant). Rang in the New Year in bed staring at the ceiling listening to fireworks go off into the night. The next day I cried randomly while browsing for a movie to watch on TV. At first I didn't know why as I'm not much of a crier but I realized for the first time that I genuinely felt alone. I have no partner, no family that I speak to, no friends just acquaintances, really no one there for me. That's my own doing which took years to accomplish through me being closed off and just shutting people out, so I figure it might take just as long to fix. I'm not complaining as I got myself into this predicament. It's gonna sound dumb but I wanted a New Years kiss. I'd never had one and it seemed like a fun dumb silly thing to do. Eh maybe one day. Ok well back to my spiel. (I'm not depressed or anything or wanting attention) Some of my hobbies and interests are movies, reading, cooking, kayaking, records, video games, board games, snorkeling, bowling, swimming, escape rooms, puzzles and antiquing. I would describe myself as more goofy and dorky than nerdy. I like to go out and do fun things but also stay in and cuddle and relax. I guess it depends on my mood and the weather. I prefer the cold and would love to live in a state with actual seasons and snow. I'm 5'10, stocky AKA fat and open for adventure and new experiences.
Here are some random facts about me:
Some of my favorite bands are: The Black Keys, Kings of Leon, The Beatles, Creedence Clearwater Revival and The White Stripes.
Christmas is my favorite holiday, mainly because of the cold and festive activities.
I come from a medium-ish family.
I'm exceptionally patient but every person has a breaking point lol
I like traveling a lot. It's a basic thing that lots of people like. But I've found lots of people hate to leave their house, town or state so if that's you we probably might not be a good match. I also enjoy the mountains. But I don't like roughing it (give me that sweet AC in the summer). Hiking is so hard on my knees and I haven't done it in a while that if I were to I think about doing it I'd about die or twist a kankle.
I don't eat seafood, mushrooms, artichokes or pineapple on pizza (Who cares about this? Doesn't mean I won't go to a restaurant with you that has these things)
Never went to college as I'm horrible in a classroom setting and at taking tests.
Have probably the most boring job imaginable (Ask me about it)
Overweight but trying to work on it and make better choices (Get healthier and lose weight together maybe?)
Non religious but no issue with what you believe. (If anything)
Looking into sterilization. If you are already maybe you can give me some info or tips?
My own red flags 🚩
I work too much and oftentimes can't talk.
I send selfies often. I'm a visual person and like receiving photos. Apparently it's a generational thing. Hopefully you think pictures are neat as well? Is it really that weird to want to see you and your life and show you mine?
I sometimes speedily become attached to people, not in a weird way, but if I like you and we have some kind of connection, I will enjoy talking to you and want to do it often.
I'm a very organized person and will plan out pretty much anything from a vacation to a road trip to a birthday. This makes being with a go with the flow type of person hard at times I've learned but still very much doable.
Due to childhood trauma I'm secretive which can be annoying.
MY own "HELL YES" 🏁
I know how to cook.
I will always drive if you want. (Within reason)
Great at escape rooms and jigsaw puzzles.
Can read a map.
Decent at reading backwards upside down writing.
What I'm looking for:
Is my age or older. But I'm willing to go quite a bit lower if you are neat and we have stuff in common. But super young isn't my goal here.
Mature, considerate, responsible and funny (Dorky wouldn't hurt)
Someone who never cheats, honesty and trust are important to me.
Someone who is open-minded, willing to try new things, be adventurous, funny and nerdy.
Someone who believes in sharing household chores equally because we are both adults.
Be open and frank about issues you or I are having. Not pushy or jealous. Won't yell or argue about stupid things, I've had enough of that.
Willing to push me to become a better version of myself (Can you turn me into Batman?)
If this sounds like you then feel free to reach out and say hi or challenge me to a game of Scrabble/Pictionary/hand to hand combat maybe? Maybe Wordle or some online vidya game?
P.S. I realize my post isn't for everyone but if your seeing red flags from my post then I'd say trust your gut and please don't message me as we probably aren't compatible. I honestly don't mean that in a mean or hurtful way. I've just been messaged quite often with women saying they pushed aside red flags to get to know me. Please don't, it never ends well and you end up wasting both of our time. Wouldn't you rather spend it finding your person with no flags?