|You Passed 8th Grade Math|
|You Are 88% Evil|
The devil is even a little scared of you!
|Your Famous Last Words Will Be:|
Random Brutal Sex Master (RBSM)
Don't ever marry, you're The Hornivore. Roaming, sexual, subhuman.
The Hornivores (you) are some of the most screwed up and naughty beings in the Universe. And their numbers are growing, mostly due to skipped or misused contraception. You care not. There's one thing you want, one sole need.
Half manly, half bestial, you act on instinct, and animal charisma smoothes the way. It's unlikely you're driven by much other than your own selfish, orgasmic requirements. Your appearance and personality have evolved for the hunt. Ass beckons, you oblige.
For the record, you can happily bang all personality types, however your match percentages might be low with the kinder, more sensible people of the world, purely because they all wish to avoid you. Good luck to them.
"One day, the villagers came with torches to the house. In the smoldering ashes, stray dogs looked for cooked flesh."