Insurance by day, trouble by night

I'm 32 and I sell insurance policies to strangers for a living, which means I can explain deductibles over dinner but I'd rather not. Divorced a year ago after a marriage that lasted about as long as a Connecticut winter feels. I live in a third-floor walkup near Parkville and I'm finally learning to cook something other than pasta. Looking for someone who'll split a pitcher at City Steam with me and not bail when I admit I've never finished a whole Mark Twain book even though his house is basically my neighbor. I laugh too loud, cry at dog commercials, and I'm done pretending I'm low-maintenance. I'm not. But I'm worth it.