Face it, gents. Women are hopelessly attracted to the bad boy. The outlaw. The one our mothers warned us about. I have to wonder if our mothers warned us because they knew we'd be stupid that way, or because they knew we wouldn't listen and hoped we'd get it out of our systems early.
What is so fascinating about them? The impression—hopefully illusion—of danger? The allure of the anti-authoritarian figure? That air of knowing more than you do, which they actually might, or which may just be insufferable ego? Regardless, there is something insanely attractive about a guy who will mug someone to buy you flowers.
What are your 100 Words About the Bad Boy?