"We should go to that steak restaurant my parents used to take me to. I want to eat their buttered rolls again."

"No, I want to go back to that time when Missy Calhoun made fun of me in ninth grade algebra because my fly was down."

"That's so stupid, let's go back to the 80s so we can watch the premiere of The Simpsons."

"That show sucks, let's go back to 2008 and watch the premiere of Breaking Bad."

"But we already know what's going to happen. Should we try to kill Hitler?"

"No, that could set off some kind of butterfly effect scenario. What if we just go back to last Wednesday when that person stole your parking space at the grocery store? This time, we can stick donuts to their hood or something."

"Maybe we should go back to warn people about AI?"

"I don't think it will make any difference."

1. Unemployed treehouse architect and amateur comedian

2. Toothless southern troubadour/roofer with a drug problem

3. Troubled Seattle poet who could drink his weight in Evan Williams

4. Extra large Italian laborer with Tony Soprano aspirations

5. Pint sized pseudo anarchist/lothario with a penchant for spousal abuse

6. Globe-trekking foppish Australian with near crippling ADHD

7. Insecure bike messenger who ghosted me after I saw his micro penis

8. Tax-avoiding Israeli who hated America but really loved her women

9. Towering blond lawyer with a love of the Beach Boys and being creepy

10. Honorable mention: guy who drunkenly peed on my floor, so I sold his Dreamcast for $50 to get some extra beer money

On days like today, I have to remind myself I'm not a neurosurgeon. I don't work at a nuclear power plant. I don't drive an ambulance.

I'm a content writer who creates clickbait articles on what type of pasta you'd be based on your personality. Accordingly, the level of panic I feel right now is unwarranted for the task at hand.

Greetings. Howard Alexander Roark here. Charmed.

A little about me. I stand 6'3" in bare feet. My eyes are a piercing cerulean shade of blue. My steely reserve is often mistaken for smugness or conceit, which it may well be. I intend to move the earth itself with my innovative designs of a vague nature. I am the golden god you've been waiting for to accompany you to Joker: Folie a Deux and then perhaps a late dinner.

What I’m doing with my life:

Calming hysterical ladies with my penis; making lesser men feel inadequate; designing unique and innovative structures that cause anger and confusion. 

I’m really good at:

Is this a trick question?

The first things people usually notice about me:

My aforementioned large stature; my innovative designs; my shocking orange hair; my dislike of consent.

Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food:

I don’t really have time for such plebeian pleasures. I prefer a glass of Cognac and a partially willing lady in my lap.

The six things I could never do without:

Cognac

Ladies

My penis pump

Valtrex script

A vaguely Semitic foil

T-square

I spend a lot of time thinking about:

Innovative building designs, like putting a slide in a cracker factory. Ladies’ rumps, as long as they are alabaster and tight like a drum.

On a typical Friday night I am:

Standing at a bar looking suave; giving a lady the best thirty seconds of her life.

The most private thing I’m willing to admit:

I’m a bed wetter.

I’m looking for:

An alabaster skinned free market goddess with the morals of a fruit fly and a publishing deal.

You should message me if:

You want to be mistreated by a handsome, dashing, devil-may-care architect. You don’t mind the hour of penis pumping it takes for me to reach full capacity.