Once upon a time there was a good man. As you know, there is so much discussion about not so nice men and downright bad men – their comings and goings, their troubled pursuits, their longings for redemption, the twilights of their punctured souls, their complex inner struggles and the delicate play of their morally inadequate anxieties – that it is not so easy to tell the story of a man who was good his whole life. We don’t tell such stories much.
But here goes.
The good man was once a good boy. He went to bed when his mother told him to, and he took care of his brothers and sisters. He was a good friend and a good lover. He tried and tried some more.
But one thing made him absolutely crazy. The mythology about bad boys made him nuts. Rousseau and Byron and Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain. Really, said the good man to me. The whole mystique with these guys is crazy. They are such assholes. I mean come on.
He was right and he still is.
How funny it is that the good man now has so many female admirers!
Look at this, and tell me what you think, the women old and young ask him.
Why now? he says. And I say, because it has taken us such a long time to learn.