Another example was a relative in the British Army during the Zulu uprising in South Africa in 1879. He somehow got it into his head that he could make some money sneaking away from camp at night with rifles that he would sell to mercenaries who traded with the Zulus. That venture lasted one night. The Zulus got their rifles. He was never seen again.

Among the more recent examples was my great-grandfather, who lived in New York in the 1920s and '30s. Rumor had it that he worked for some local low-life mobster making deliveries of illegal booze, then went to South America for a while before getting kicked out. Who gets kicked out of a continent? Anyway, he somehow managed to survive those activities, despite some close calls with the police. However, in early 1935, some barrels came loose during a delivery and my great-grandfather was crushed to death. Ironically, since Prohibition had many ended months before, what had once been a dangerous smuggling operation had now become a legitimate and safe delivery job. Timing.

His son, my grandfather, was a bombardier on a B-24 during World War II. During a mission over Germany, a bomb came loose in the bomb bay, so he went to check on it. The story was that the navigator went with him. He turned his head for just a moment and my grandfather was gone. Nobody knows exactly what happened—a wrong step, a slip—but the bomb bay doors opened and my grandfather and the loose bomb became part of the German landscape.

And then there was my father. A still-desirable man of seventy when he died, he had risen through the ranks of academia to become the head of the history department at a small, prestigious college. Being handsome and influential, my father was inundated with female students (and I would imagine some males, as well) offering sex for passing grades. Once again a member of my family was faced with a decision. Once again the wrong choice was made. My mother caught wind of it many years ago and left with me—their only child—in tow. We didn't leave town though, and I was able to see my father on a semi-regular basis. In his later years he wasn't slowing down any and seemed to be leading a good life, despite his sleazy behavior. That is, until he compounded his bad decision with an even worse one. One of the students he slept with was married. Her outraged husband put three bullets into my father in the parking lot of the college as he was getting into his car.

He lasted a few days, drifting in and out of consciousness, before finally succumbing. But not before reminding me that I came from a long-standing tradition of fine decision-making.

And it was altogether possible that I had just joined its hallowed ranks.

Chapter 1

She wasn't my first online dating match, but she was certainly the strangest. And it wasn't like I hadn't had some weird ones. There was the exhibitionist. She could have been a lot of fun, but when she whipped off her shirt in the seats behind home plate at Fenway Park for everyone viewing the game on TV to see (with me sitting next to her), I decided that she might be a little over the top. Then there was the Voodoo priestess. Well, not really a priestess, but she was into Voodoo dolls and made sure to mention that she had a doll for each guy who dumped her. I called it quits after the first date, and then tried to convince myself that having to see my chiropractor three times a week for the next two months was simply a coincidence.