As you get older, you hone that ability to know where you may stray erroneously more and more, until it's finely tuned. You're never able to eliminate the possibility of your instincts leading you somewhere you shouldn't be, but the probability should be shown to go down with age. You should become better and better at intuitively knowing what's going to be a misstep without having to take any steps. You can see the big fuck of a dog on the end of a chain, at a house just up the block, and all of those little lights go on in your head that now would be a good time to cross over to the other side of the street and to avoid all eye contact with the snarling pooch.
Anything could happen and it might be better to give yourself a decent head start if anything should go down. You also should, with age, become pretty good at picking a person apart, after a short amount of time spent with them, making some preconceptions about what they're not telling you, what they might still have up their sleeves and what you might be able to expect if you were to continue spending time or remain involved with them.
The people who pop up in songs by the Austin, Texas, band The Ghost Wolves are those who would make your antennas prick up. They might be the ones who could get you hot in the loins too, but you'd be fully aware that all of it was going to lead somewhere that was gonna be no good. Carley and Jonny Wolf, as they like to go by, have no problem laying all of the scuzziness on the line. Theirs are stories about what's going to happen if anyone should ever do them wrong. They're liable for nothing and they likely have a whole pack of demon beasts at their command to hunt the offenders down and eat them alive.
The women in Ghost Wolves songs will pull knives on you and they won't be fooled by your blubbering apologies coming well after they should have come. Hell, they don't much like to give forgiveness at any time. Carley Wolf, as she's whetting her knife, sings, "You lied to the wrong woman son." Then, it's lights out.