Fanicce

Om mig

Luxury, independent, Bucharest as my base — and I will cross the country when the invitation earns it.

The men I make time for have faultless taste, and they want the mind and the feeling engaged every bit as much as the body. Little in this life beats desire with the brakes off and an adventure with no self-consciousness in it; but when the whole thing is on offer, why would anyone take a slice? I hold it as an article of faith that we are here to spoil ourselves, to live richly, and to throw in a measure of recklessness each time the chance shows its face. Care about being one of few, about what happens between us staying there, about anything at all being done well — and we are already close to something rather divine.

So settle in and go through my profile slowly; there is no hurry at this end either. Fanicce, by the way.

My tastes run creative and they run wide. Books, writing, painting, wandering around cities, aeroplanes to places I have not been yet. Creative as the head is, I can hold a corner on sport, pop culture, politics, business, or whatever the news happens to be shouting about this week.

What I prize over everything is originality and a conversation with nothing performed in it. Nothing you say gets weighed or judged here — not the filthiest fantasy, not a secret you have carried for a decade, not simply wanting to be daft for one evening. All three come easily around me. Dropping my own inhibitions is something I practise on purpose.

There was a character in a book, once, convinced that a life lived quietly and far out of public view was the only life a person could shape exactly as they wished. It has stayed with me. Ours is the same arrangement: a purpose-built exit from real life and from the flat little routines that swallow all of us, into another one, where the two of us do precisely as we please.