I remember the first time you took me over to your parents' house. They seemed like such nice people, I'm glad I didn't know I was about to become an accomplice to theft from their home. After introducing us, you called me into another room to "look at some of your old yearbook pictures." When I walked in, you were rooting around in the back of a closet, out of which you emerged, grinning ear to ear, bearing half-full liquor bottles. "Here's me in band" you said, loud enough for your folks to hear, as you quietly tucked the bottles into your bag. You were clearly pleased with yourself. "Oh, and look at this picture!" I got the feeling you had done this before.
We've known each other for fourteen years now, but somehow, that story kind of sums it all up.