This is a recent post in personal pages of craigs list (men seeking women) that I posted on Craig's List. Responses will be posted as they are received.

To Whom it may concern:
I am a 39-year old ex neo-facist rabbi that has spent the better part of my life figuring out that this is exactly who I am. I've played the funny guy, the sensitive guy, the mysterious guy, the sleezy used-car salesman, and the guy you would bang just because he's so far removed from your current safety net man that it seems like exactly the abandoned risk that your over-priced shrink has been urging you to take all along.I consider myself optimistically cynical and I like my wit, not my clit, drier than Grampa's afternoon Martini.
Life is too short to be sober, so I'm continuously altering my consciousness with different tablets, elixers and tonics. I'm an atheist that feels that this is it, you don't cross go and you sure as hell don't collect $200 (a creative, semi-relevant way of describing the eternal paradise described in the Torah) so, I live life like the one shot it is.
What I'm looking for:
Obviously I'm not looking for an ex neo-facist rabbi, especially since I'm not gay; however, I'm looking for a companion. Someone that loves life, wants to feel as many endorphines pumping through their bodily matter as possible, but who wants someone to curl up in bed with and pepper their stomach with baby kisses. Swinging is of course permitted; however, intimate activities such as kissing and 69's are not. I want my companion to have fun, but I need to make a distinction between me and the rest of the herd.
A few idiosyncracies about me that may influence your decision: I don't like Sally's, Brandy's, Mary's and Rita's. If you have this name, please don't respond to this request for companionship. I don't care how much we have in common, those names remind me of my mother and my father's three mistresses. There is no detour around this roadblock, it's as permanent as the fraternity letter on my inner thigh (more details to those that respond). Also, I hate women that groom areas that are meant to be as wild as the rampant ivy on a deserted country house. To me, the trimming of intimate areas represents the obdurate progress of technology and its subsequent destruction of our natural wonderlands.
Thank you that is all.

I haven't shaved since Monday. That doesn't sound like much, but I'm Italian. Two more days and I may even be able to pass as homeless and make a few bucks passing the change cup around. I'm constantly amazed by how much facial hair can change a guy (or gal). Somebody can fast, and go three nights without sleep and it'll completely transform that person. People will see that person and say, "Man, you look like shit", but the funny thing is I can get that same reaction just by not shaving for a few days. I like to grow a beard every now and then just to make it look like I've been through hell. Being unshaven leads people to make certain assumptions-Is that guy an alcoholic or just a dirty hippy? Did that guy just get laid off or does he just not give a fuck? Not shaving is the universal symbol of not caring about anything starting with your own personal appearance. In the movies, when a guy gets dumped, it always flashes to a few days later and that guy has dark, bristly stubble all over his miserable looking face and he's surrounded by cartons of half-eaten Chinese food. And the same thing goes for work. When a character loses his job, Hollywood always shows the guy sitting at bar or stumbling around in a bathrobe with a nice five o'clock shadow printed on his face.