I live for the look of a perfectly tailored suit, a crisp white shirt, and a meticulously knotted silk tie. My hair? Impeccably combed, of course. My greatest pleasure, however, comes from the ultimate contrast: the total, messy destruction of that polished facade.

There is nothing more exhilarating than standing tall, in full formal attire--tuxedo, vest, and all--only to be utterly covered, head to toe, in a sloppy, creamy humiliation. The more expensive the suit, the more careful the knot, the more refined the look, the greater the rush when the pie hits. I crave that moment where dignity dissolves into a delicious mess and my perfect look is ruined for someone else's amusement.

Looking for: A skilled artist ready to humiliate a gentleman.

The fantasy: Being thoroughly pied while maintaining a look of elegant composure... until I can't.

Ideal target: The man who looks like he has the most to lose by being messed up.