I only had success when I really went all out. I sent this to a girl whose profile said she wanted a man who could make her think.
She immediately said she wanted to meet me, had a great first date, went back to her place, yadda yadda yadda, and we would be in a relationship if school and distance weren't currently obstacles. I really have taken a liking to her, though, so I hope we'll be together again soon.Earlier on your profile, you said you wanted a man who can make you think.
Allow me to be your sherpa of speculation. I have a map here, from my good friend Kurt (or was it Alfred?), although some of the ink has retreated in its pitiful battle against time. It charts a course from the island of liars, Crete, to the home of Heisenberg. We'll set sail on the ship of Theseus to the Island of Stability, where we can gaze at the stars whilst lying on Mandlebrot beaches. However, we mustn't tarry long - the mangroves that keep it afloat rebel against their forced company, and are parted in the blink of a caffeinated eye. From there, I had hoped to visit and ask a question of the famous Chinese Room (I hear it is larger than the universe itself!), or perhaps spelunk Plato's cave and amuse the denizens with shadow puppets of rabbits and various other Euarchontoglires.
Although I know you don't like zoos, I know of a man (with not but two Witts about him) who is the zookeeper for a lion that speaks - yet, not a soul, if such things exist, knows what it says. From there, we shall ride in a carriage for the return leg of this meander, sandwiched between Alice and Bob, who speak in that indecipherable and infinitely irritating (or irritatingly infinite?) tongue of primes, and Eve, who surreptitiously peers behind her seat, intent on gleaning something from their verbal prestidigitation.
At some point, our journey will come to a halt. Or not. Nobody, not even that astute Alan and his Turing machine, knows until it happens. But I have some modicum of faith - the kind that comes from wishing, not feeling - that we will reach our next destination, albeit sugared with dust old and new, where we will leave our carriages to a place where only the mind knows the way - the mind itself. Here we'll stand agape at that eager scaffolding that constructs sensorial manifolds to make sounds spiral and colors curl, pulsing and writhing against the Curse of Dimensionality. The deeper we plunge, the more we will see that everything we think is us might not be (being a student of Psychology, you are perhaps well acquainted with such depths), and that things that aren't, might probably be. Perhaps we'll find our selves (but not ourselves) inextricably woven in those shimmering brambles, and will need to leave them behind to escape the terrible night storms that accompany the fluttering dance of wet, love-locked orbs under epidermis gossamer.
Finally, we will reach our destination, where I will tell you how the Liar's paradox ties to the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. But if we stop there, we'd be rather uncertain about where we are, wouldn't we?
I don't usually write such copious prose on OKCupid (instead ending up debating dualists or expounding the history of artificial intelligence), but your limpid eyes compel me. We must all spread our peacock's feathers in our own way, no?