I'm Adam. I'm single. Here's the long version.

what I'm looking for

Someone who matches my energy.

Adam driving his Jeep with the top off, mid-shout and grinning, tattooed arm on the wheel. — **Top off, windows down.** Summer weather is my favorite weather.

When I like someone, I'm all in. I ask questions, I make plans, I text first and I text back. I will also hide a tiny plastic hand somewhere you'll find it three days later.

I'm hoping for someone who plays back. Someone who'll throw out a plan or two, can take a joke and return fire, and will say yes to a goofy idea at least some of the time.

I'll bring the goofiness.

Think you can match it?

I'm affectionate. I'll hold your hand on a car ride, I'll get the door every time, and there's a decent chance of a playful swat when you walk past. You don't have to match all of that. Just bring your own version of it.

I'm not looking to date a lot of people. I'm looking for one.

full disclosure

You should know what you're getting.

I run a company, raise three kids, pay a mortgage, and take all of it seriously. I am also, reliably, this.

Adam in a full Superman costume, flexing, with his arm around three friends in costume at his gym. — **That's me. At my gym. In a Superman costume.** Nobody dared me. Nobody asked. I simply felt the moment had arrived.

Adam on a beach in sunglasses, drinking from a hollowed pineapple through a straw held by a tiny plastic doll hand on his finger. — **I own tiny plastic hands. Plural.** They make everything funnier. Prove me wrong.

If you've already thought of something goofy we could do together, tell me. I'm probably in.

the roommate

This is Smoke.

Great Dane. Roughly the dimensions of a loveseat and twice as convinced he's a lap dog.

He does not sleep in my bed. He has his own, on the floor, like an animal with boundaries. What he does do is back slowly toward you and sit directly down onto your lap, at which point your evening is over and you live there now.

The cape is his. That one's on me.

Smoke, a large black-and-white harlequin Great Dane, sitting indoors wearing a red superhero cape.

how I spend a Saturday

I'd rather be outside.

Running, hiking, paddleboarding, kayaking, hot yoga, and a lot of years of obstacle races. That's half of it.

Adam mid-race at a Spartan event, carrying a heavy iron chain across his shoulders through a field. — **The chain was heavier than it looks.** The chain is always heavier than it looks.

This year I ran my first two half marathons. The second one was in the pouring rain, and I've mentioned it to approximately everyone I've met since. (It's on Strava, if you need proof.)

You don't have to run a half marathon. You don't have to run at all. But if want to go do something active or outside lands better than want to grab drinks, we're going to get along fine.

how I spend a Sunday

I'm just as good at a lazy day.

Not everything has to be a workout. Some of my favorite days never leave the house.

Chicken in a creamy sauce with spinach and sun-dried tomatoes, in a skillet.

Breaded chicken topped with mozzarella, roasted cherry tomatoes and balsamic glaze, in a glass baking dish.

Chicken, zucchini, peppers, broccoli and onions cooking on an outdoor griddle.

Dinner, most nights. Yes, I made all of these.

I cook real dinners for my family most nights, and I'd happily cook for you too.

I also plant flowers, which surprises people. I'm pretty proud of how these turned out.

A good day can be a long run. It can also be a blanket, a movie and something in the oven. I'm good with either.

A bed overflowing with pink and white impatiens beside a brick walkway. — **Planted these myself.** I still can't believe how tall they got.

A long island bed of pink, magenta and white impatiens in the middle of a lawn. — **Planted these myself.** I still can't believe how tall they got.

the fine print

Stuff you'd find out by date three anyway.

I'd rather you found out now, on a website, at your own pace, with the option to close the tab.

Three kids — 10, 12 and 14: The best thing I've made. Well past car seats, deep into eye-rolls. You wouldn't meet them for a good while. First, it's just two adults figuring out whether we actually fit. Kids don't audition people.
If you have kids: good: Same rule in both directions. And when it eventually is the right time, I'd want yours to feel like they're part of something — not luggage from a previous trip. I like kids. I'm just not in a hurry to introduce anyone.
I smoke weed: Daily. I'm telling you on the internet instead of on date four. You don't have to. You do have to be genuinely fine that I do.
Five foot nine: Posting it here so nobody has to spend a Saturday finding out.
Tattoos: A full sleeve on my right arm and a matching one down my left leg. I tend to find them attractive on other people too — a preference, not a requirement.
Divorced: Amicably enough that it doesn't need its own paragraph. We co-parent, we talk, nobody's throwing anything. You wouldn't be walking into a war.

That's the whole list. I'm not hiding a second one.

about the domain

Yes, it's on a hat.

It started as a joke for whoever was running behind me. I had this URL embroidered on the back of a running hat and wore it for a half marathon in the rain. If that's how you found this, hi.

The actual hat: a black cap embroidered adamssingle.com, with Spoiler Alert: I'm Adam underneath. — **The back of my head.**

Adam at the iRun Saratoga finish line in the rain, backwards cap on, holding his medal. — **And the guy wearing it.** Soaked, and very pleased with himself.

your move

Okay. Your turn.

If something here made you smile, or you think we'd get along, send me a message. It doesn't have to be clever.

Say hi — @aml2326

Don't know how to open? Take one.

or skip instagram

Leave me a note.

Rather not DM a stranger? Leave a note and how to reach you, and I'll reach out.

And if you're not single, forward this to somebody who is. That's a perfectly good outcome too.