Air Force veteran, PC gamer, homeschool dad, tech fixer, libertarian firestarter, and walking contradiction. I’ve been through a divorce, raised great kids, and kept my soul (and sense of humor) intact. I can change your oil, upgrade your SSD, or explain how school choice works—all before breakfast.
I’m the guy you call when your Wi-Fi’s down… or when you need to rant about the state of the world. Either way, I’ll listen—and probably make you laugh mid-rant.
And yes—I am the Chad who built LetsBeFWB.com. I figured if no one else was gonna make a site for real, funny, kink-aware grown-ups... I would.
I own my home, complete with a hot tub, a massive quartz kitchen island, and more screens than a sports bar. I’ve got a PC in just about every room, and for the chosen few I trust? Lifetime access to my private Plex server—packed with a truly enormous... library of movies and shows. 😏
And hey, if we accidentally create life together—well, you just won the VA-benefits lottery. That baby’s going to college for free, gets top-shelf healthcare, and I get a compensation bump that'll keep both our lives comfier. And if we ever got married (God forbid, I mean that), you’d get those benefits too. Talk about commitment perks.
Oh—and yes, the rumors are true. I’ve been told my specs are... generously configured. Let’s just say I don’t underperform in any room of the house.
I’m not here to sell a fantasy. I’m here for real connections—physical, emotional, and intellectual. I want a partner-in-crime, not a pen pal. Someone who’s curious, unfiltered, and bold enough to be honest, even when it’s awkward.
FWB? Sure—if the “F” stands for friendship, fun, and maybe something a little filthy when the mood’s right. 😏
I’m not into degrading or dominating. I like respectful, mind-melting fun with a side of “oh my God, I didn’t know I liked that.”
Skip the “hey.” Open with a real question, a bold thought, or something that made you laugh from this profile.
Want to flirt? Do it smart.
Want to vibe? Be honest.
Want to connect? Bring depth and a little edge.
Bonus points if you use a pun, call me out, or send a GIF that would get you banned from Sunday school.
I once considered paying a prostitute $300—not for what you're thinking, but to debate the anti-Christian tattoos on her body. She was hot, but so were her theological errors. My plan was to give her a full forensic breakdown, then offer her the $300 to either fix the ink… or her worldview. If I wrapped it up quick enough, maybe I’d still have time to enjoy the hour while she wrestled with her newfound existential crisis.
Call it “faith-based outreach,” with fringe benefits.I thought better of it, saved the money, and bought these cool business cards instead. Then I started LetsBeFWB.com. 😄
I was hanging out with a stripper once, and I knew there was zero chance of action. Felt kind of awkward… so she just sat naked in my lap and let me trauma-dump for 15 minutes. Nothing says hot like paying a woman to listen to you.
Turns out, this might be the best—if not only—way to pull that off.Honestly, have I stumbled onto a novel idea... or rediscovered ancient wisdom lost in the ransacking of the Library of Alexandria? 🤔
Strippers are hilarious. They won’t give you the time of day while you're losing your soul (and sobriety) at the slots for two hours. But the second you walk up to that ATM? Suddenly, you're a Saudi prince with a yacht made of singles.
"Bitch, step off. You didn’t want me before I had money—why should I give you any now that I’m $95 poorer?"If I wanted that kind of attention, I’d call my ex after she sees my tax return.
I once got caught in the middle of a full-on catfight between two strippers—arguing over which one of them I was a “regular” for. Honestly, I was just trying to enjoy my overpriced sour on the rocks and avoid eye contact.
Apparently, I was the emotional support dollar dispenser that night.After I got home, I logged into the club’s digital jukebox remotely and started queuing up songs from Lewis Capaldi and Train. Figured nothing calms strippers faster than ballads about broken men and bad decisions.
I got about 3 songs in before someone rage-unplugged the jukebox. I about died imagining the scene. 🥲
I don’t drink, but when I go to a bar I always order a whiskey sour—hold the whiskey. On the rocks.
The look on the bartender’s face is worth more than top-shelf scotch.It's not about the buzz. It’s about asserting control over the citrus supply chain with style.
I knew what the results of the 2024 election were gonna be before most people did. How? Because I walked into a strip club and saw all the dancers wearing “Strippers for Trump” shirts.
That's not exactly your stereotypical right-wing voting bloc.When even the girls spinning on poles are flipping blue states red, you know it’s not going well for the Democrats. Best accidental political focus group I’ve ever been a part of.
No tax on tips, baby. 🇺🇸
I went to vote back when they first started rolling out those fancy touch screen machines. Out of thousands of voters, I was apparently the only one to point out that everyone could see what buttons you were pressing.
Turns out, privacy was optional that year.I mentioned it to the poll workers and they said, “Yeah, we had to set it up like that because we didn’t have outlets in the right place.” Well color me stupid, but I didn’t know you needed electricity for a few pieces of PVC pipe and a damn curtain.
I rarely hear my alarm in the morning. I’m a bit of a night owl. So when I have to get up for something important, I just trap my dogs in the bedroom with me.
Those entitled, handout-seeking liberal dogs will whine obsessively until I wake up and feed them on time.Freakin’ leftists. But hey—I found a way to harness entitlement, coupled with extreme co-dependency, into a functioning wake-up system. I should probably call Trump and let him know my findings.
🎵 I Think My Dog’s a Democrat
I don’t believe in divorce. But apparently, the State does. It was the first time I witnessed our government literally claim more power than God. Honestly? A bit surreal.
The judge said, “You can’t get married for at least 6 months from the date of the judgment of divorce.”I looked her dead in the eye and said, “Your Honor, did you just legalize bigamy?”
Apparently, you lose your First Amendment right to free speech in divorce court. I wore my “I Love My Wife” shirt to the final hearing—the one with Ephesians 5 on it.
The judge took one look and immediately sent me to the bathroom to turn it inside out.I’m sorry—what is this, high school? I know my rights, damn it. If my shirt offends you or my wife, I really don’t give a rip. She stole my dignity, and the judge just poured salt in the wound like it was court-mandated.
And even though I complied? The judge still brings it up—every. single. court. date. Guess I left more of an impression than the affidavit.