My introduction is Tolstoyan in quantity, but not quality. My apologies.

At first glance, I’m pleasantly paradoxical. Soft spoken but sharp-eyed, boyish in voice but entirely feminine in bearing. A tumble of brown curls – unruly, chaotic – full of love and laughter and thoughts spinning faster than I can catch them. And yet – everything in its place. Groomed with precision, from pressed blazer to French pedicured toe. Five and a half feet of slender, nymphic quietude. Eyes, wide and blue – naive, mischievous. Sensual, but seemingly unaware.

During the brighter months, you’ll find me in Melbourne. Like a flower, I follow the sun. Most days, I’m in the garden – sprawled on the grass with a dwindling black coffee and an open book – savouring the sunlight on my skin, putting watercolour to paper. Evenings and weekends, I oscillate between two poles: curled in bed with a Lynch film and a mug of tea, or swept up in a life of cosmopolitan indulgence – lavish dinner parties, long tête-à-têtes over wine, Dionysian revelry. These nocturnal rites keep my love of costume, music and performance alive. I was once a trained soprano, deeply invested in theatre – I often think I would have fit right into the Demi-monde of the Belle Époque.

(My life sounds terribly lackadaisical, but in truth it was science that robbed my life of the serious persuit of art, and I unfortunately resume tertiary study next year. I reject any similarity to Linda Radlett.)

I love to stumble through talks of books, history, art, and current affairs – but I’d rather delve into the strange folds of your mind. And when it comes to dates, I’m a sensualist of the subdued kind: I enjoy tender, lingering caresses – premium produce prepared simply – toes brushing beneath soft sheets – tandem exploration of natural wonders.

I’m really far from a hedonist…most of the time.

But just below the surface – lives the thrill seeker. The wine drenched libertine. She’s at the helm of a private yacht bound for Ibiza. She’s dancing under chandeliers, then disappearing into the dark velvet of the Torture Garden.

The adventures we could share are infinite…

* Hikes with serine views and swims in hidden coves
* Days by la piscine, pretending I’m Jane Birkin
* Snowed-in chateaux nights after chasing powder on the slopes
* Shopping dates, sweet or extravagant
* Being your sherpa through strange lands
* A night at the Casino perhaps?
* Discovering new cuisines and cultures together
* Bar hopping adventures or long, luxurious dinners
* Or slipping into a red velvet sear for burlesque, musical theater or a classic film!

We could be Charles and Sebastian; Elio and Oliver; Humbert and Lolita. Let me be your fleeting but formative muse. Your bright young thing. Invite me into your life for a moment, and let my memory linger forever.

As Wilde said:

“It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between an elder and a younger man, when the elder man has intellect, and the younger man has all the joy, hope, and glamour of life before him.”

Except that I’m a girl, but hey