Chrissy, I think you got it right. But I am only going on my own example.

I was neither a bad boy (no tattoos or drugs) nor a good boy (no job or future) in my entire twenties. At one point I hooked up with this respectable housewife. She had been divorced, a live cancer victim, three kids, a church goer, an avid reader, a real goody-goody community person. She was not even all that good looking. At the time she was 48, and I, 27. She worked in one of the UofT libraries, in a religiously oriented one.

I? I was 27, like I said, short, very good looking slim, with no social skills whatsoever. I was working at two jobs, as a doorman and as a bartender. She was thrilled with me, and so was I with her. But. I did not know how to behave. I shocked her family (her children) with the rude and lewd things I said at the dinner table. I talked her into copulating in the car on the parking lot behind her most usually used grocery store. I was the "wild kid" in her life, the wild and untamed lover, the crazy and somewhat cute little tiger cub that could scratch seriously without the cabby fully realizing the damage he was making. (I sometimes worked week ends as a cab driver. Taxi driver in US vernacular.) Or the wild cabby realizign he was at all that he was drawing blood or something. It was all good, good clean vicarious fun for making up for a whole lifetime, in her case, for all the boring household sht and husbandry sex.

So yes. This woman was one of the many in Canada who wanted to write the Great Canadian Novel. She was all literature and God and social comformity, and in our relationship she enjoyed the breath of fresh air I let into her life when I talked about tiits and when I went "woo" every time a great-looking other woman appeared within eyesight. She was most impressed when we took a room in a really run-down flee-infested downtown hotel, rooms rented by the hour, sheets changed once a month, whether they needed to be changed or not. Anyhow, she was impressed, because I went "woo" when she took her pants off. You see, it was a totally involuntary "woo"; she enjoyed among other things, my ability to be guileless, natural, a little wild kitten tiger cub that has no knowledge of how to lie or steal or hurt, and when he does, he is unaware of doing that.

In other words, I represented in her life the little sin that is allowed for one to indulge in, after a lifelong pious and restrained life. I was the amount of sinning to her, in her life, that all gods of any religion gracefully forgive to the most faithful who had been living without blemish to that point.

She had a brilliant sense of humour, too. And boy, she liked sex.

I always see bad boys as giving life the finger.