Here's what I want. I want to go on dates. If you know any nice girls in NYC who would go for a vegetarian dinner and a walk across the Brooklyn Bridge (weather permitting) or elsewhere with a kindly, burly literary fellow, drop a line.

I've always waited for others to come to me, to find me. As a result, I have no real idea what I like, just that I want to be asked. Should she be tall or not-tall? Thick or thin? Anglo, Jewish, Black? Older? Younger? An artist or writer, or a professional? Should she even be she? Well, on the last one, probably she should, as that's how I'm wired. But in general I don't really know.

Now, on the date, I will be a gentleman, although I like to flirt. A buss on the cheek at the end of the night would be nice, but that's where I'll stop my expectations. I want conversation, humor, confidence, and charm; I do not want to fall into bed right away or talk too much about Ftrain and the Web.

Here's who I am: 26 years old (27 in August), a freelance writer, politically on the left, not religious. I try very hard to be moral and respectful. I work part-time for an Israeli firm working to build real artificial intelligence. I enjoy that work and the people there are outstanding, one of the brightest and best groups of individuals I've ever met. I'm also trying to write short stories so I can give them to my agent. Some of them are nearly done, but it's slow going.

One thing I consciously look for in others is a concern for the larger world, a desire to make things better that translates, at least occasionally, into altruistic action, whether creative, or philanthropic, or just as general kindness. I am not very interested in things, in stuff, and prefer the trade-offs of genteel poverty to those of suburban splendor. Money doesn't motivate me and I do well with little of it. I am very independent and have learned to be good about my bills and estimated taxes.

Here are some recent pictures, so you know what you're getting into. They are fairly honest.

Above-the-head photo #1. I don't look quite like this anymore, but I can't place why.

Above-the-head photo #2, with a bit too much facial hair.

Straight across the table shot, with a nice double chin.

That's who I am. Draw your own conclusions.

A year ago, I could never have written this. I would have choked the prose with desire and forced meaning and crypto-laments and offered all manner of disclaimers. But now I think it would be fun. It beats a lot of hinting emails back and forth. And I no longer want to be collected by women as a young, talented writer, one of a set, which has happened to me in the past. I am not a bug or stamp.

I'm expecting none of you will take me up on this. But I thought I'd take the chance and ask, in an honest way, rather than send mixed signals through the prose.

Why not?

Send an email (ford@ftrain.com); attach a picture if it would make you feel more comfortable. I'm in the Brooklyn white pages; I'm the Paul Ford on 9th St. I'm not actually the Paul Ford on Ftrain.com; he's both better and worse than I am.

If you would like me to post a personal for you, send me one of 200-1000 words and I'll put it in a little box on the Ftrain front page with a link to the "personals" section of my site, although getting that working might take a week or two. You can send me a picture for your personal as well and I'll put it up. I can tell you from experience that Ftrain readers are smart, literate, and usually kind, and most of them would probably really like each other. So even if I don't get anything out of this, perhaps you could.