Yuri Markeev. Game confession (№ 348416)

I live alone. Used. Feel more than comfortable. It's not right? I do not know. Maybe it's not normal for singles who live that life. And I have all happened. And the wife he loved. And women who gave me the vertical and horizontal spiritual pleasures. And periods of zero when the vertical overlap with the horizontal. Not discouraged never.
Now deep relationships not looking. Don't see any sense in this. Surface of reciprocity occur from the state of the soul. I often grim and unsociable, but sometimes I get fun and, at times, I'm happy so much that roam the streets with a blossoming face, just a crazy city. Shunned publicity, because publicity is always fraught with vagueness judgments. Who knows me a little bit, I heard about that more than anything I don't like the genre of serial vulgarity, where the devil is not the devil, but only a pathetic clown on the payroll from the master. And a passion - bubbles. I can not tolerate sentimentality. Dribbling painful episode I cauterized once and for all with one thought: "I do Not want to let your soul corroding a drink of undeveloped passions. The tears are different. I'm ready to kneel before you with tears of repentance, or the thrill of the meaninglessness of existence, but will never accept household tearfulness - sentimental relationship to other roles of another movie." In other words, gray crotch can not bear. Although living in the midst of it.