Incredulity | Toes | Fandango | Albatross | Incorrigible
Is this love?
A change of pace for a player and a pensive perspective prevails.
I knew I was incorrigible. I thought it was my destiny and that I was permanently incapable of more than a passing fling — a one-night stand. It is a dark cycle to believe something about yourself that is untrue. The lies we tell ourselves begin to define us, and our behavior follows that same rut.
Was I happy in my self-condemnation as a loveless Lothario? No, of course not. But copious amounts of alcohol, teamed with an endless line of nubile females, pursuing a night in my bed, can be a very convincing lie.
Most nights, I found a club with music that made my body want to move. I wasn’t a fandango dancer by any means of the imagination, but I had a fairly good rhythm when my hips started swaying. I was never alone on the dance floor for long, and I’d dance with a dizzying number of willing women before I invited one into my bed.
