Lies are much more Fun
Parent's teach you not to lie. Society teaches you not to lie, usually. One minister gave a sermon about instances when it is ok to lie. This threw me for a while, and I still haven't quite got my head around it. My years of training for Team Honesty have been beneficial for my overall well being and conscience, but there are other times when I wish that I was better at being a no-good-filthy-stinking liar.
I had a gentleman try and chat me up yesterday. I was wearing a dress that I'd paid a dollar for, and a beret worth 20c, grabbed on the way out that morning to hide unwashed locks. You could say I was looking pretty fine. It generally makes me cranky if attention is garnered when I feel undeserving. Standing quietly on Platform 19, I was pondering the big things in life – such as whether or not I could have voiced my opinions better in that lecture that morning, and how many words in the english language work with the alteration of one vowel. I'm sure there are a myriad, yet so far have only been able to come up with pack peck pick pock puck.
A tall man, suddenly standing next to me, mumbled something to me. Removing earphones, I said “Sorry, what?”
“Contacts. Do you wear contacts?”
Never aware of where these things are headed, and lacking intelligent insight I answer stupidly with “no”.
“Ohmygawwd, your eyes are amazing. People would pay for eyes like yours. They're so beautiful.”
I turned and pretended not to hear anything further he may have been saying. The train arrived and I, stupidly again, managed to select the carriage that has no one seated in it. Mr Compliment gets on too, and decides to sit opposite me. There's an aisle, and earphone and a near tangible wall of “Please don't speak to me” vibes between us, and yet he managed to dodge all barriers and wriggle onto my seat, his big man-thighs taking up most of the space. If ever I'd been thankful for being relatively small, this was then. He wanted to know what I was listening to. He wanted to know if I danced. He wanted to know what country I was from. He wanted to know if I worked. He wanted to know if I went out in the city very often.
He told me he was returning from a court case. Not his, mind you, as he was most quick to clarify. He told me about his cousin being done for goods and custody, and another case of larceny, his cousin is married to his sister (I didn't even ask about that one), and he's trying to be supportive for everyone. Still yet to understand what it is about my expression that makes perfect strangers want to tell me their life story, I listened with what I hoped was the right amount of understanding without being misleading.
He continues to find out things about me. My honesty prevailing. Where I was headed, where I live, where I go to university, where I spend my weekends – why oh why do I not lie?
“So, do you have a phone?”
The 21st Century and it's prevalent technology is not a good time to lie about such a device.
“Ohh ok. Yeah, me neither. So, why don't you have a phone?”
“Just, erm, you know.”
“You do have a phone, you liar.”
Stinging. He had me there.
Awkward conversation ensued, “come on, it'll just be friendly. Few texts here and there. Hey, how you doing, that's it”.
Death, no. Think of lies, think of LIES!
“So, where's your boyfriend today?”
Lie lie, any lie will do. Lesbianism? Staunch religious views?
“Uni. He's just headed back in for class.”
“How old is he?”
He didn't have much to say after this. Only “why didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend?”
He suddenly made me feel like I'd somehow cheated on my imaginary suitor by not telling him about said suitor earlier on.
Not sure how I can work a lie like that into an initial compliment on my facial features...
“I've got a boyfriend with nice eyes too”.
I'll have to work on this lying business.
Keep on dancing.