Why? As nearly as I could tell, it was always to make himself look better. He wanted people to like him, and he wanted them to admire him. So he never told a tale but that he was the hero of the story, and his heart was always pure, his motives righteous, and his actions justifiable.
Caught a fish? Why, it has huge, would have been a record, seriously! except that his stupid brother dropped it and it got away!
Or that gorgeous woman? They were going to get together and roll around breaking furniture, but her boyfriend found out and threatened to kill himself, and she couldn't let that happen. But she wanted him.
He showed up once looking like something the cat dragged in, all scuffed and bruised.
Jeez, what happened to you?
Well, I was doing a favor for a friend, hush-hush, not entirely above board, can't tell you any more, and I went to this bar and started asking some questions. Stepped on the wrong toes. Got jumped by three guys. Managed to hold my my own and give better than I got, but I took a few hits.
Wow. That's heavy, dude.
And he shrugged and said, Hey, life in the big city, man ...
Through an odd quirk, I later found out what really happened: He was on a motorcycle, hit a wet patch on the road and put the bike down ...
Could have been a funny story, spun right, but that would have made him look less than completely adept, so he didn't go that route.
Once upon a time, I thought he would have made a great fiction writer, but as I got into doing that, I realized I was wrong. Sure, we make stuff up and lie like a warehouse full of Persian rugs, but the good lies always have truth in them, and the great lies are almost always completely true. He couldn't seem to get there.
Eventually, we tuned him out. He had to find others who didn't know his game, until they caught on, then he had to move along.
I wonder sometimes what happened to him. Dead? In jail? Or, the CEO of a major corporation?