I suffer a profound weakness for ripe strawberries and fine cheese. I prefer my hair down. And long. I’m very cautious when beginning new friendships and relationships. I am above average in height and I refuse to abstain from wearing three-inch heels. I can remember lyrics to songs with minimal difficulty, no matter how old or new. I would rather not offer an opinion in a heated argument if I know nothing about the subject. This could mean politics, religion or Desperate Housewives. I have four piercings in my ears and one tattoo. I loathe dishonesty and arrogance. I have never been involved in a physical battle with someone other than my brother. I was a late bloomer. Sheets with thread counts under 400 need not apply. “Tomboy” preceded “One of the Guys”. Now I’m neither. That said- I held on to qualities of both: a love of scary/gory movies, working knowledge and appreciation of baseball, a decent amount of athleticism and a sharp right hook (among others). I learn more about people by silently observing them than speaking to them. My first car was an Oldsmobile Calais (an ugly shade of blue with peeling paint). I am unafraid of the kitchen. I consider myself a respectable cook of comfortable meals and baker of sinful deserts. 98% of my jewelry is silver. I have a very small circle of friends that I would consider “true”. I do not forgive or forget easily. Or sometimes, at all. I yearn to travel far and wide. I live within my means, but wish I didn’t have to. I own over 500 DVDs and still counting. A challenge is my best motivator. My southern-ness may not be instantly heard in my voice, but runs deep and true. When I was much younger I wanted to be an archeologist. I am more comfortable in friendships with men than women. I am a visual person...keen eye for photography. To fall asleep I need total darkness. I cannot nap during the day, no matter how tired I may be. I have skinny-dipped on more than one occasion. In dating, I’ve found that my height is an effective method of weeding out insecure men. I find it beyond excruciating to hear a song sung in the incorrect key. Needless to say, karaoke night is my idea of absolute torture. I love deeply and without regret. When the going gets tough, I act. I do. I make it better, somehow, some way. I am not attracted to boyish men. In looks or demeanor. A day without pleasure reading is abnormal. I only wear a touch of cherry chapstick. I listen to my music at ear-shattering decibel levels. I have a dimple. Just one. My degree of drunkenness depends on my mood and the company I keep. The sexiest item of clothing a man can wear is a pair of well-fitting jeans. I have never broken a bone. I feel sexiest in my favorite jeans and a black t-shirt. But I believe that sexy is a state of mind.