As a dreamer of dreams and a travelin’ man
I have chalked up many a mile
I’ve read dozens of books about heroes and crooks
And I’ve learned much from both of their styles.
— Jimmy Buffett
I don’t have many rules in my life. I can’t abide rules. Guidelines, sure, but rules always get in the way. But there’s one rule I’ve stuck with all my life. I learned it when I was very young. I heard it spoken in a movie–the first movie I remember watching. I remember walking out of the movie theater and telling my dad, “I want to be that when I grow up.”
The movie was The Sting. The rule was this. “Never treat your friends like marks, kid.”
It has treated me well, this rule. So well, it became my first and only Law.
I spent my life studying the art of the con. I learned the slugs, the send, the bat, the spud, the lemon, and the strap. I learned how to short-deck and big-mitt. I learned the ins and outs of the give-away, the slick box, the pigeon and the green-goods game. As trekhead so aptly put it, “John put all his points in ‘Con Man.'”
(I prefer “Grifter,” myself, but the sentiment is still very kind.)
And while I know all of these little games, the First Law always applied. I never treated my friends like marks.
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mark: a sucker or intended victim. From the chalk mark carnival grifters placed on the back shoulder of a potential “easy victim.” Not just an easy victom, a mark would also be put on someone known to be carrying a lot of cash.
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Spending all my points in Con Man gave me a few advantages in life. I was able to read people well. I knew who I could trust and how far I could trust them. Every once in a while, my sentimental heart would get in the way and I’d blow it, trusting someone I knew I shouldn’t have. But then again, I’m a sucker for a sob story and a pretty face.
It’s the latter that almost always does me in. As in the case of recently.
I have a friend. An old friend. A trusted friend. Someone who has been very close to me in more ways than one. Someone in whom I’ve confided pain. Like most of the women in my life, we have a quiet understanding. We both understand the First Law. I’ve smiled as I watched her play suckers with skill, charm, and grace. “Elegance,” isn’t the right word, but it’ll do. She’s a Twist. A woman who knows, understands and uses the grifter arts with skill and poise.
For this, I admired her. And, frankly, kept a respectful distance. But I had to; that was the only safe place to watch her work. And watching her work was worth it.
Like I said, we had been friends for a very, very long time. Part of the reason, I think, we maintained that friendship was because we kept that distance. That respect. That Law.
Don’t treat your friends like marks, kid.
Of course, you can see where this is going.
It was only one moment. A single moment that did it. One of us broke the Law. I won’t say which one, that would give too much away, but one of us did. And the moment it happened, it was done. Over. Finished. Another chapter in my life closed.
I should feel some kind of regret or loss, but I don’t. I think it’s because of all the unused potential that’s now free for me to re-direct. Our relationship was like a toy you have on the shelf, never taken out of the box. And while it looks very nice up there, still in its original packaging, you never got to play with it. I guess it’s time to take that toy down off the shelf, put it up on E-Bay, and use the money I get to buy something I’ll use.