Oh, Omé: This local cage fighter turned R&B singer thinks he knows how to treat a lady.

“Find My Girl” by Omé

As hot dates go, dinner with Omé could be pretty steamy.

The tall, green-eyed R&B singer will probably ask you about your astrological sign over appetizers. While you wait for your entrée, he’ll tell you that he doesn’t have a type of woman he’s interested in; he likes ’em thin, thick or with curls, as he sings in his song “Find My Girl” (which got airplay on KPRS 103.3 in the summer and fall of 2007.) Omé is soft-spoken, polite and attentive, and if you accidentally spill some red wine on your white blouse, he’ll gladly lend you his washboard abs to scrub out the stain.

But when the check arrives? You’re buying.

Omé (pronounced oh-may) was born Jesse Pringle in Lee’s Summit. The name Omé is an acronym, he says, for “the Oracle of the Musical Emotion.” He says he has performed in nearly every hole-in-the-wall local venue and worked with prominent of area performers; Icy Roc, Snug Brim, Rich the Factor and Tech N9ne are among the names he drops. A bigger break came when he joined St. Louis rapper Huey (“Pop, Lock and Drop It”) for the Texas leg of his tour last summer.

Being broke but passionate is the theme of Omé’s biography so far. The album he just finished, called So Real, was financed in a peculiar way: cage fighting. Competing for a company called True Fight Fan under the name Avalanche, Omé won enough prize money to buy the equipment for his own recording studio.

“We fought in little arenas from Grain Valley to Blue Springs,” Omé says. “Or they’ll put a cage up in a bar and have a big, drunken brawl in front of 2,000 screaming, drunk people. It’s an adrenaline rush, for sure, because you don’t know if you’re going to get in a fight before you get in the cage or after you get out.”

Through cage fighting, Omé found that taking chances paid off, but all the training was taking his energy away from the music. As he puts it, “It’s hard to concentrate on writing a love song when all you think about all day is beating the hell out of somebody.”

So last summer, he headed to New York City to perform in talent showcases. He arrived knowing no one, with no place to stay, and he spent his first night homeless. He passed the 98-degree night on an air-conditioned subway car as it looped around the island. He spent the next night walking the streets, singing to people in Times Square. He sold one CD for $1. Eventually, he found a cramped room for rent in Brooklyn for $60 a night.

“New York makes me feel completely insignificant to the world,” he says. “I don’t like that, so it makes me want to do more to prove I’m somebody out here.”

Omé sang for audiences in Brooklyn, Manhattan and New Jersey. “I got a standing ovation, out of the 30-some other artists performing,” he says. “It was a nice feeling. It was like closure, to let myself know that this is what I’m really supposed to be doing.”

Still, he isn’t making bank yet. Even though he sings about spoiling women and driving around in flashy cars with big rims, his finances run more toward Taco Bell than Capital Grille.

“I write about things that I dream about,” Omé explains. “Things that I dream that I might want to do someday, if I have money, or after I make it. Sure, everyone wants to have enough money to buy things like that [jewelry and cars], and even if I don’t have it, at least I can write about it, so maybe somebody that does have it can associate themselves with my music. I just kind of want to be in touch with every lifestyle, you know?”

Diamonds may not be in Omé’s reach yet, but his regular-guy income doesn’t keep him from shining. Thanks to some trips to the craft store, there’s matching green glitter on his Yankees cap and his tennis shoes — Omé puff-painted them himself. He also has bedazzled his gray jeans with silver studs and rhinestones and sprayed silver glitter on the cuffs. He likes his clothes to catch the stage lights when he performs. There’s no glitter on his hoodie or his T-shirt, however — maybe because when he’s onstage, his shirt tends to come off.

“That’s why I work out,” Omé says. “I try and stay in a certain sexual category, where I’m going to have the eyes of my audience — whatever I can do to keep that attention on me.”

If it isn’t already apparent, what Omé lacks in dollar bills, he makes up for in confidence. Sometimes, it can be a little much.

“What’s my favorite sexual position?” Omé asks himself aloud during a recent interview, then answers his own question. “All positions are fun if you know how to make ’em different. I don’t have a favorite. I like being in charge. But then again, I like it when a woman takes charge sometimes. Makes me feel wanted. I don’t know. I’m serious. Every position. I’m like a jungle gym.”

When asked what music best sets the mood for love, Omé answers, “My stuff works pretty good. Not to, like, toot my own horn or anything.”

Check out Omé — the man, the abs and the music — Friday night at the Scottish Rite Temple at Linwood and Paseo. At the show, the urban clothing store J-Bone and J-Quan’s is giving away a diamond ring. Tickets to the 21-and-older event cost $20 at the door.

No word yet on whether the ring comes with an Omé.