I’ve discovered that I actually know people pretty well. My first impressions are usually the right, but I don’t always listen to my first impressions, especially when my heart is involved.
I guess I’m saying that something inside me knew instantly that these men from the Henley on Thames were crooks. Perhaps I was confused, I couldn’t tell whether they were simply incompetent or just totally dishonest, or perhaps, just maybe they were both?
I was like a virgin at the dance and my ability to listen to my gut was severely inhibited by my burning ambition for romance (money).
The optimistic side me wanted so much to believe that they were lucky fools who had stumbled upon their own little gold mine, from which they would fund my movies.
But as I followed them down the crooked path, the trees closed over and darkness began to fall, and I began to smell a strange and peculiar stench, we were not heading to a gold mine, we were descending straight into a sewer.
P:S: This is the eleventh in a series of blogs chronicling my adventures in Los Angeles over the last 3 years. See “How the F@*k Did I Get Here” to begin the adventure.