I get that I don’t necessarily look like it, but I’m an economist.
"I don’t mind [sharing an office]. I like Grant and he’s usually in D.C. Brings his dog in sometimes. Basset hound. Always looks very puzzled, just confounded. But working on it, you know? Just, everybody slow down and let me catch up, ‘cause I’m down here.”
I don’t know who told you you’re a bad guy, but somebody did, somebody along the way. Somebody or something convinced you of it because you think you’re a bad guy, and you’re just not. I’m socially inept, but even I know that. So because you’re a bad guy you try to do things you think a good guy would do, like committing to someone you like but maybe don’t love. A sweet, smart, wholesome Midwestern girl. I could be wrong. I almost always am.
Caught you off-guard, didn’t I?