Men seeking Women:
Trad Guy: SWM, 32, living out of Toyota Tacoma, occasional carpentry work, 8-month stints in Pakistan, and weekend trips to the Creek with my dog, Denali, seeks similar female, age 16-25 (older women need not apply, unless they're Sugar Mamas), for companionship and adventure. Hobbies: burping, farting, crack climbing, loitering, poverty, alcoholism, and Going Big. Oil my cams, beeyotch!
Sport Guy: SWM, 22, divides time between basement of parents' house, Wal-Mart parking lots, and National Forest land, with yearly trips to the south of France (Sport climbing only — no art or culture bullshit!) to clip bolts and work 8c routes. Hobbies: self-importance, stick-clipping, burping, farting, bulima-rexia, tee-totaling, tantrums, belayer humiliation and compulsive rest-day ice-cream bingeing. Flake the fucking rope!
Bouldering Guy: SWM, 18, lives at home with mom and dad, virgin and/or repressed homosexual who enjoys venting his pent-up sexual angst on Internet message boards. Hobbies: brushing holds, scowling, pouting, V-bouldering, shirtless bouldering, grunting, sweating, campus boarding, Ganja, burping and farting. I wanna find some chick to f--k on my crashpad!
Alpine Guy: DWM, 46, veteran of seven failed marriages, 12 kids, seeks any woman who will have me at this point. Hobbies: Grade V and up routes, suffering, freezing, thousand-yard staring, burping, farting, grant-mongering, poverty, alcoholism. It's been a long, cold road. ...
Wall Guy: SWM, 30, loves long, ponderous days up on the Big Stone, nailing and pounding, wedging and widgeting, jugging, hauling, eating peanut butter rolled up in newspaper and boiled sock soup, and shitting into a tube. Hobbies: Wall climbing, canning, dumpster diving, alcoholism and wall climbing. Could you buy me a slice of pizza?
M12 Guy: SWM, 23, dry tooler (leashless) seeks woman for friendship, partnership, or to go hang out in some cold, miserable, seepy limestone cave in mid-winter while I hack away at a three-foot-long, piss-stained icicle screaming: F--k! F--k! F--k! Hobbies: Sharpening my tools, talking "double digits," and keeping it real. Can I get a quick, seven-hour belay on Le Smut du Merd (M11)?
Trad Guy: SWM, 32, living out of Toyota Tacoma, occasional carpentry work, 8-month stints in Pakistan, and weekend trips to the Creek with my dog, Denali, seeks similar female, age 16-25 (older women need not apply, unless they're Sugar Mamas), for companionship and adventure. Hobbies: burping, farting, crack climbing, loitering, poverty, alcoholism, and Going Big. Oil my cams, beeyotch!
Sport Guy: SWM, 22, divides time between basement of parents' house, Wal-Mart parking lots, and National Forest land, with yearly trips to the south of France (Sport climbing only — no art or culture bullshit!) to clip bolts and work 8c routes. Hobbies: self-importance, stick-clipping, burping, farting, bulima-rexia, tee-totaling, tantrums, belayer humiliation and compulsive rest-day ice-cream bingeing. Flake the fucking rope!
Bouldering Guy: SWM, 18, lives at home with mom and dad, virgin and/or repressed homosexual who enjoys venting his pent-up sexual angst on Internet message boards. Hobbies: brushing holds, scowling, pouting, V-bouldering, shirtless bouldering, grunting, sweating, campus boarding, Ganja, burping and farting. I wanna find some chick to f--k on my crashpad!
Alpine Guy: DWM, 46, veteran of seven failed marriages, 12 kids, seeks any woman who will have me at this point. Hobbies: Grade V and up routes, suffering, freezing, thousand-yard staring, burping, farting, grant-mongering, poverty, alcoholism. It's been a long, cold road. ...
Wall Guy: SWM, 30, loves long, ponderous days up on the Big Stone, nailing and pounding, wedging and widgeting, jugging, hauling, eating peanut butter rolled up in newspaper and boiled sock soup, and shitting into a tube. Hobbies: Wall climbing, canning, dumpster diving, alcoholism and wall climbing. Could you buy me a slice of pizza?
M12 Guy: SWM, 23, dry tooler (leashless) seeks woman for friendship, partnership, or to go hang out in some cold, miserable, seepy limestone cave in mid-winter while I hack away at a three-foot-long, piss-stained icicle screaming: F--k! F--k! F--k! Hobbies: Sharpening my tools, talking "double digits," and keeping it real. Can I get a quick, seven-hour belay on Le Smut du Merd (M11)?
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