Every man deep down inside thinks he is Don Juan DeMarco (or whatever the cultural equivalent). If a man doesn’t, he is either gay (which means he thinks he’s George Michael) or missing out.
Some men, like me, actually believe they are, even though they may actually resemble a fat old Marlon Brando.
Either way, life sometimes sends along a young stud to remind you what being Don Juan was all about. At 18, this kid I met, is a national swimmer, was head-boy at school, beat me at pool, and played the guitar like a pro. Damn!
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