Is it true? It's mostly the players who get the dates?

Behind my picture is one no different to those around
I'm not in the slightest similar
Do you find it interesting to see the same faces return time and again
They seek the right one
who seems very illusive indeed
Is the photo or a clumsy message the right place to stop
Is it the surface that needs scratching
Beneath is like my backyard with the weeds
flowers and flowering weeds
They and the bugs are stunning
if I'm the only one to think so
Did I read correctly of relationship
Are they cover terms – don't you just LOVE that four-letter-word
Is right the one given the chance
unique the chance that is given
I philosophize too much
I greet my challenges determined
It is my own brand of good humour that must respect those around
It must be for the world to which we're bound
Life is short to learn and enjoy the world's humour
My part in it is really quite amusing
I laugh
If I didn't see the humour in it
you would not be reading this
Sometimes the world's humour is not too funny
I am serious
A terribly wonderful life seems very "oxymoronic"
Do you have a similar delusion
I was a journalist
graphic designer in the morning
It's noon and I now lecture and teach technology
Art and English
I'm not sure what I'll do this evening
the day is still young
I've been around a while and this all is so very new to me
Do you like the water
the earth and the sky
Do you like to kayak
to hike
Do you like the way the wind laughs while playing in the trees
Do you like the strain and the pain of getting to camp
Do you like the smell of breakfast to a winged serenade
If I smile back
please do send the first note
If I smile first
I will always send that note
Take a chance
show your face and shine a smile
The brighter the smile the stronger the shadow
I am checking for my shadow
Please read all with care as I do
I'll spare you from reading more words of a clumsy poet

Epilogue: This is a somewhat poetic profile I once had up on a virtual dating site, if only briefly. It's rather funny that I spend so much time expressing my words, just so, and for something as mundane. English is my third language, and it took a while for me to become somewhat proficient in it. I consider myself still as an imigrant, though very much Canadian, and there was a time when my managing editors (when I worked as a reporter, and later as a photojournalist) would make fun of my writing abilities, which is partly why I was most valuable to them as a photographer (of course, I was a damned good photographger, which was the prime reason for my worth there, I believe). I'm now proficient enough at English, which I still consider to be such a "screwed up language," that my co-workers seek me out to edit their essays; it seems so strange. Yes, funny too, though I think my words can still take some editing...