CURMUDGEON14207 is a:
gay man located in Buffalo, Riverside New York (NY) USA.

Status:
Currently single and looking for a long term relationship with a man.

Appearance:
Age: 54 , Height: 6'00" , Weight: 265lbs 120kg , Body Type: A Few Extra Pounds , Ethnicity: no answer

Location:
gay Riverside Buffalo, New York (NY) USA

gay Information Listing:
Have a serious weakness for cowboys and rednecks The Prime Directive here: I’m playing for keeps. It helps if you know or know of the LeAnn Rhimes song, “Commitment.” 54, 6’, 265, nonsmoker, seldom drink, never do drugs. Have no use for those who do. And, yes, weed and poppers count as drugs in my book. Judgmental? Maybe, but that’s the price you pay when being a curmudgeon. A Leo with5 other planets in Leo, although I think most guys left that astrological baggage in the 70’s, but you’ve been warned. Very non-involved in gay politics or gay bars. And, yes, I do watch FoxNews and listen to country music. Don’t be fooled, though, this bear has a remarkably [read: dangerously] high IQ. Short fused with stupid people. Shorter fused with illogical people. Zero tolerance for infidelity. If you cheat, the screen reads “GAME OVER.” No exceptions. No reboot button. Open relationship is just another word for roommate. Too bad Janis Joplin ain’t around to put that into a song. Anyhow, I had roommates in college, I don’t need1 now. Don’t own a cell phone, and neither should you. The only exception would be if it’s confined to the glove box for emergency use only. Or if you’re a famous trauma ward surgeon. Love cats. Will tolerate dogs only if you do the work. Walkies is not in my vocabulary. There are no excuses for any exotic pets—birds belong out in the trees, lizards in the desert, rabbits in an Easter basket, and fish in the ocean. BTW: Ferrets are not as cute as you think. I’m definitely non-relocatable. I have2 parents in their 80’s. If1 dies, the1 left behind will be in deep doo-doo, which would leave essentially me “on call” for everything and anything. Do on-line selling of scrapbooking supplies as a hobby. Imagine that. I don’t own a suit, and neckties are the work of the devil. Looking for a big ol’ bearded bubba. The hairier, the better. Yep, I want a guy who wears boots (cowboy or work) and jeans, works on cars and trucks, works hard and doesn’t waste his life away playing video games or downloading every movie ever made. A bear who doesn’t have the requisite, government-issued leather harness that most leather guys feel compelled to own. He better have a heart soft enough so he puddles up at sappy movies. Or sad movies. Don’t think I’m endorsing chick flicks, ‘cos I ain’t, but real tears at the right times are more manly that you might care to admit. Age IS a factor. It’d been my personal aggravation to find most men under 35 are being bussed here from some other planet. Life’s far too short for me to waste time trying to sort out the humans from the humanoids. Besides, the Federation made me return my tricorder. One last thing—no hardware. If your face, tits, or crotch set off the metal detectors in airports, we won’t get along, other than being neighbors. “Been gopherin, chaufferin, company chairman. Coffee maker, Copy repairman. Anymore there ain't nothin I swear, man, that I don't do. Been juggling, struggling, closing big deals. Dancing backwards in high heels. Just when it feels like I can't make it through.” I said, “it sure is nice to just be the buddy with you”

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