The same dozen adverts are on every platform in this city, word for word, which means either that twelve people are extremely organised or that most people write once and paste everywhere. Fine. But if I answer you here while you are actually living on a different platform, you will read me in nine days, reply out of politeness, and we will both lose a month to it.
Thirty seven, Queens, dominant, ten years in, and yes, I am aware this advert is grumpy. The nine day thing has happened to me four times since January.
What I run is straightforward. An ongoing arrangement with a fixed evening, standing expectations for the days in between, correction that is verbal and specific, and a review whenever either of us wants one rather than on a schedule nobody remembers.
What I want from a first message is one real detail about your week and the name of the sort of platform you would rather be talking on. That is not a test. It is logistics.
Not looking for a list of interests. Not looking for anybody who has to be prompted twice for an answer. And not looking for somebody thoroughly present everywhere and reachable nowhere, which describes most of the people I have written to since the spring.