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You're Only Fooling Yourself

Lies and relationships

By Caroline EganPublished 7 years ago 7 min read
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Someone once said that everybody lies. Maybe that’s true. But I’m a crappy liar. I mean, I’ve lied in the past, but in a torture situation, I’d be the first to take some cyanide, because there would be no point in someone trying to interrogate me. I find it ridiculously difficult to do.

Even in a situation where I am telling the truth and I even suspect that someone thinks that I’m not telling the truth, I adopt the characteristics of someone who is. This is most likely due to the fact that these questions are awkward anyway but what situation do I not make awkward with my neurosis and anxiety, eh?

I heard somewhere recently, although I can’t remember exactly where, so I’m not sure how accurate it is, that a major reason that humans evolved the ability to lie was primarily for sex.

When I heard this I instantly dismissed it, being somewhat more hopeful for the human condition, but then on reflection my jaw slackened ever-so-slightly and a cold dead look came from behind my eyes.

I thought back on a lot of interaction that I’ve had in the past where at least one person was weighing up the potential for sex and I could pinpoint several exaggerations and downright lies that were used in attempt to get me into bed.

Is there some weird bravado bullshit going on where you have to impress someone THAT much to "trick" them into bed? Are people really that terrible, that they have to lie to get a one night stand?

And, why did that guy add five years onto his age if he was well above the age of consent anyway, eh? I mean, in the grand scheme of things, for the most part they were "little white lies," but I don’t understand what the actual point is. There are a million factors that are involved in selecting someone for a casual bang and lies can be easily be detected for the most part.

Except this one night.

I was out with a (male) friend drinking and having a wholesome normal night. We were joined by this random guy who loved to dance and initially this was hilarious.

The three of us ended up chatting and everything was fine until he began to quite aggressively pursue me. This caught me completely off guard, because usually when I’m out with one of my male mates, men seem to assume that they are my other half, which suits me fine.

Even at this point, I was single and I really wasn’t interested. He then became the bane of our night and hounded me until I drunkenly gave him my number (I usually give people fake numbers to make them fuck off).

We went to a different pub and I didn’t think anything of it. He texted me several times during the night. All of which I ignored and I went home to bed alone.

When I woke up in the morning I had no less than 15 missed calls from a private number. I remember this distinctly because my room was really bright and I had a very strong taste of garlic and kebab in my mouth.

I couldn’t deal with it. Private numbers bother me immensely. After the 18th ring, which happened pretty much continuously after the last, I decided to answer, and I have to say it was probably one of the worst calls I’ve ever taken.

It was his girlfriend, who he lived with.

She said she had gone through his phone when he was asleep after he came in stupidly drunk. She asked who I was. I answered and said that nothing had happened.

Her voice was shaking, and I could hear that she had been crying, but was trying to contain her frenzy. She asked how I knew him. I felt awful for her, but instantly I needed her to be clear on what had happened.

This was not the first time that he would have done something like this, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. I told her that although nothing happened, that he had badgered me all night and wanted to come back to mine.

He had been texting me trying to meet up also. I told her he was a piece of trash. I didn’t know how to end the call other than to say, "I’m sorry and I don’t know you but you really deserve better."

They had been living together for three years. And apparently, he loved her, despite the fact that he could just slip into the role of a single man who was going out of his way to pull.

I often wonder how that conversation went when she saw him later that day. I mean, did he bullshit her enough to get to stay?

He was quite adept at acting single, so I can only assume he was. I find it hard to think, or more understand, how people can lie to people they care about — not the little lies regarding chores, but the big things.

When someone asks you a question, like that girl asked her piece of trash boyfriend, the pain and hurt from even having to ask it in the first place is written in their eyes. I cannot fathom how someone cannot be honest, no matter how difficult, when someone they supposedly love is hurting.

I struggle with the fact that people can be as selfish as to blatantly lie to someone’s face that you supposedly care about and paint a completely different version of events for them. Why? Because you’re scared of losing them? Because you want to have your cake, and eat it? Because you know you shouldn’t have done the thing in the first place?

Big lies, really at best, situate the liar as a coward and, at worst, a fucking sociopath, and neither are great, are they?

I also wonder about the need to stay in a situation where you continuously need to lie. Clearly, in the context of a relationship, constant lying is a sign of unhappiness or extremely low self-esteem. Better off leaving, I would’ve thought? Or better off just staying greedy? Or do they just get off on it?

Watch Lie to Me, True Romance and then watch people lie. You’ll feel like an expert.

Here are some things I’ve noticed when people lie:

(Note: Before you get yourself ready to interrogate people, just make sure you’re aware of their specific mannerisms and speech patterns, because if they are lying these will change.)

  • When people lie they can get very angry and use aggressive language to blame you.
  • People will be less likely to speak in the first person.
  • Eye contact will become intense or there will be none – no in between.
  • When you ask a question a liar will use the exact same wording of the question to answer you – much like most reading comprehensions in Leaving Cert Irish.
  • Silence before an answer.
  • Change in tone of voice.

I have met people, and I’m sure we all have, that feel the need lie about themselves, their breakfast, when they lost their virginity and how much they drank the night before.

Harmless it is, yes, but also annoying when you watch people recount stories that you were there for that sound nothing like what happened. It’s easier to tolerate it if you try to feel bad for them, because exaggerating things isn’t the worst thing that could happen.

In saying that I don’t lie often, which is probably why I have such a hard time understanding it. That’s clearly not to say that I haven’t. I can see, to a degree, kids have to lie about drinking vodka in fields, and partners have to pretend they remember anniversaries.

I am so crap at it, I make it so it’s more of an omission than a lie. Essentially logic extends that this is a lie, but when I feel the need to do this, which is rare, I justify it (and really there is none) by saying this is not indicative of a pattern or essentially is harmless.

I have convinced myself of this a few times, and it has enabled me to get over severe guilt about things that I have done in the past. But generally, guilt makes me fess up without even being asked – because I feel continuing like nothing has happened is like living a lie and every smile you fake because of it just makes it worse.

Essentially I don’t have to lie, because the right exact question is never asked but if it were I would own up because I can’t lie.

However, I generally find there is no need to lie. I have nothing to hide. I have nothing that I need to gain from people. I do not feel the need to embellish my life to make it seem more interesting than it is.

Although, when the teacher in school said, "When you cheat you’re only lying to yourself," that made absolutely no sense, because she clearly was fooled – I knew I cheated on that test.

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About the Creator

Caroline Egan

Hailing from Dublin, Ireland, Caroline has a variety of published fiction and non-fiction, written in a wry style on all things nerdy and neurotic. Her collection of essays Fahckmylife: The Little Book of Fahck, is available on Amazon.

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