The scoundrel

For the record, I’m not proud of my behavior in college. Figuring I wasn’t going to get by on looks alone ... I needed another way to mask my edginess and appear sincere. Stories of past adventures both captivated and added a vicarious boost of adrenaline in my unsuspecting prey, which diverted their attention away from my need for adventure elsewhere. Tales of crossing Baja in a dune buggy and surfing Spider Bay were good (and true). I once told an innocent young debutante about my fool-proof plan to smuggle cocaine from South America aboard a sailboat (a complete fabrication). Shocked the shit out of her …but she was intrigued. I later got her to shoplift, dine-and-dash plus switch theaters at the mall during dates … things that were totally out-of-character for her. Like I said, I am not proud. Horsepower was also good for spiking adrenaline (and providing me with a fast getaway). I had an Alfa Romeo that I kept in immaculate condition. White-knuckle rides through Laguna Canyon or Big Sur tended to suppress discussion and release inhibitions. Then lastly there was the fear of abandonment (or the loss of living vicariously) which was a good motivator. Kept ladies hooked and in-line. Back me in a corner and I’m gone.