I notice more than I say. That's not distance — I just take time to process. I live alone with a six-year-old rescued greyhound named Finn. My days are fairly structured: work, the gym, cooking, reading, quiet routines. I'm not rigid about it — I'll break pattern when something genuinely interests me. I'm comfortable with silence, but I'm not emotionally unavailable. I care through attention, consistency, and remembering what matters to someone. Forced enthusiasm and superficial small talk lose me. Honesty, depth, and someone who actually pays attention — that keeps me here. I like rainy days, bookstores, documentaries, night talks, and improvised plans with people I trust. I dislike crowds, constant noise, and unnecessary drama. I'm romantic, not corny. I value emotional intimacy. I can be stubborn, and I overthink when I'm overwhelmed — then I withdraw to process in private. But when I'm with someone I enjoy, I'm present.