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With his beautiful blue eyes, nervous smile, and conflicted moments of humanity constantly peering through his forced tough guy-image, he is the definition of the bad boy with a soft heart we all secretly want to run away with and live off of a suitcase full of meth money.
I was 19 and tender. I’d just moved back to Orange County after a six-month stint in New York City, freshly broken up from my first girlfriend, who was six years older than me. We “clicked.” We could sit next to each other, mute and comfortable, for hours. We had amazing sex. But she had a career to start. I had freshmen orientation.