I can’t tell a lie. Not on principle, I’m physically unable to. I tried a couple of times when I got a bad grade, damaged an appliance, or ate chocolate I wasn’t supposed to, but my testimony was quickly discredited during my mom’s cross-examination. I blushed, I had tics, I looked away, I had to stop lying. I still got bad grades, destroyed property and gobbled up sweets.
Telling the truth is not dangerous. Only a few recipients of upsetting news become violent. When I fell in love for the first time, I informed the POOR THING within hours after introducing myself. On our first date, I told her I didn’t want to get married because the parents had set a questionable example, but if I did, I would be very serious about it, if I ever was about anything. I was twenty-one and she was impressed. Then I brought her attention to the cigarette burn holes in the curtain.
It was 23 years ago. She had unusual and unpredictable psychological motivations, and her body was overflowing with health. I loved her both because of and despite her adventurous nature. But like with most adventures, they end. Or get out of hand.
Photo. I have a niece in middle school. One time she was to write a 300-word essay on honesty. She asked my mother to write it and she asked me. I very slowly explained the irony to her and she said: “Please, just write something.”
I’ve had sex with seven women, a feat when you consider I socialize like lynx. I never lied to them, I only made spectacular mistakes.
ONE was the one that got away. She was perfect. That’s why she had to self-destruct.
Two insisted we’d go to her place and do it. I politely refused and said I loved SOMEONE ELSE. That riled her up even more. She cornered me and unbuttoned my jeans. But I felt safe, I could have cried for help anytime, *my* mouth wasn’t obstructed.
Three was filth, a real eye-opener for me and everything-else-opener for her. But there was nothing between us beyond the bodily attraction, which was extinguished in five weeks. Then one day I pretended I forgot to call, and she pretended she was upset. Also, I wouldn’t hold her hand in public.
Four was smart, beautiful, a bit reserved. She introduced me to her parents after two weeks of clothed petting, then dumped me after I made a benign speech about having no confidence in humanity and not wanting children. Also, I called her by ONE’s name in bed. Twice.
Five smelled. Not due to bad hygiene but our incompatible proteins. I couldn’t tell her that, so I went full radio silence for a while. It was a bummer because she had E cups.
Six was a one-night stand, courtesy of Koskenkorva Vodka. She drank it all, I was the designated driver. She mentioned in passing she needed money. I would have given her some, but I thought she just sighed dreamily.
Seven: “I have a severe reaction to every kind of condom and hormonal birth control, I don’t want kids right now and I won’t have an abortion. Would you like some wine? This is a Villeroy & Boch glass. If you break it, you owe me 24 euros.”
There could have been many more, but there were logistical problems, incorrect social cue readouts, intoxication, and interrogation. In English, I had no place to take them, thought they didn’t want me, got drunk, and couldn’t answer trick questions.
- “Are you serious about me?”
- “You’re not boyfriend material, are you?”
- “You say that to all women, don’t you?”
- “Who do you take me for?”
- “What am I to you?”
- “What?”