on These Fading Looks

Look, I’m not some top-notch, grade-A, tanned and successful thirty-something; sadly, you’ll realize this shortly. I’m not dictating these pages to a well-scrubbed, starry-eyed sexy underling on my private jet, interrupted only by nosebleeds that I insist are simply the result of my allergic reaction to a tasteful leather interior and the rigors of daily cabin pressurization. I’m basically the guy who stumbled in, relied on his $1 Coors Light-fueled joie de vivre, and made it to the middle. Not once have I advanced my life by my looks or my connections.

“I know, but let me just talk to you for a minute,” has been my mantra for as long as I can remember. You can’t deny that 2013 jawline, though! Goddamn!