Between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five I subscribed to Gentleman’s Quarterly. This is more of a confession than a fact. I do not repent.

I concoct very elaborate stories about myself in strange situations. If I go to a party and don’t know too many people I usually make up a cover life and go into incredible detail. A lot of people out there think they’ve met an Earl or a Duke. Others think they’ve had dinner with the foremost authority on Algonquin languages, Burmese antiquities, medieval soil analysis or the descendent of a wide range of famous Wild West types. In the past I’ve had business cards made up with various impressive credentials. My theory is that if you’re never going to see a person again, why not make up incredible characters and lives for them. Once in line at the grocery store I told the cashier that I was about to go and cheat on my wife. It was a very intense moment for the woman. Next time someone asks you what you do just give it a try. Do you think someone’s going to question you on your made up job as a falcon trainer?

I am non-confrontational and I have a hard time saying no. When I was younger I dated some girls simply because I didn’t have the heart to say no to them. It took a long time to make progress and in the end I never totally changed. Instead of saying no I would just never answer the phone or totally avoid the situation. Then they would go completely crazy and accuse me of using them or stringing them along. These berserker scenes almost always occurred in public.

I don’t usually hold a grudge because I’m forgiving by nature, but on the occasions that I do, it is cast in stone.

If I become interested a subject I will spend years becoming an expert on it. No matter the cost or research time involved.

I hate skiing. Hate it. The feel of those boots on my feet enrage me.