Bad Boy

I sometimes exaggerate! My date had advertised for a ‘partner in crime.’ I tried to ignore the only naughty things I’ve ever done that could be classed as minor crime (uh… nicking Lovehearts from a sweetshop when I was 7 so I could give them to Valerie Humphrey*… who was 6 and three quarters) and tried to use my imagination to come up with something more… uh, gangster! I guess that sort of ‘criminality’, nicking Lovehearts, was never gonna be up there on a Sam Giancanna rap sheet level. So, I… yeah, I suggested that I had a darker background than the, uh, altar boy image I’ve tried to create over the years. 

I put the word ‘organised’ in front of crime. She was intrigued. Women seem to like ‘darkness’ but marry ‘wholesomeness.’ Sorry, guys, if you’re married. You might be reformed, so… ! Anyway, since I was BSing I was frantically trying to think of some plausible criminality that I might have got away with, but criminality that was acceptable… you know, maybe ripping off a hedge fund where nobody appears to get hurt. However, since I’ve never done anything naughty in my entire live (refer back to the altar boy thing…), it was tough. So, I thought, blag it with subtle suggestion. I mean, big time crims are never gonna come right out and brag about ‘jobs.’ So I just made references to where I get my balaclavas from. She seemed intrigued! I seemed nervous… I’m gonna reconfigure that as edgy! I will update! 

*Post Scriptum. Valerie left me! The Lovehearts didn’t close the deal. The first one she pulled out should have contained the legend, ‘Hot Stuff’ but since the packet had been in my pocket for six days as I built up the courage to present my gift, some of the candy had worn off and it now said, ‘Ho tuff.’ She didn’t seem impressed!