"Lies" - adapted from the short story, "Truth"

I wasn’t going to post this until my previous post had achieved a sarcastic retort level of “90%. No, really.”, but fuck it. I’m going to explain why all blokes are lying bastards.

Seriously. Not only that, but I’m going to explain precisely why this will never change and, therefore, why inter-sexual relations are so inherently fucked.

Now that I have your attention, I’m going to write introspective drivel and subliminal adverts, safe in the knowledge you’ll keep reading to the very end.

Let’s start with something I saw on telly the other day. I was watching Nip/Tuck - a soap(ish) drama following the lives of two plastic surgeons, which delves quite deeply into ideas revolving around beauty and love and their interplay. You’ll have to forgive me for my imminent butchery of their (at all times, brilliant) scripting, but I don’t have the scene I want to describe at hand, though I’ll try and post a proper version in the comments later.

Anyway. Christian (the good looking surgeon) is busy fucking one of his clients (as he does) before going to meet his blind girlfriend (yep) and she smells cunt all over him. He says she’s right. She asks why he didn’t bother to shower the evidence away. He says he wanted her to know. You’d think she’d dump his rich ass for cheating on her, but no, she says it’s okay, she understands it was only sex, etc. Christian says it’s not okay, that he’s a fucking slut and doesn’t deserve any of her goodness. She still tries to reassure him that it’s okay, and it’s around this point that he steps up the pace and belts her with something like, “No! You're strangling me. Your handicap, your superhuman sense of freaky smell, your scary eyes”. She starts to cry, and he rounds it off with “This is me, sweetheart. I stink of stray pussy, I don't like movie nights, and I think about banging every girl I see”. And with that, she picks up her cane and feels her way out of the room.

Blokes have two intense, mutually-exclusive problems when it comes to the truth:

i. They don’t tell enough of it.
ii. They tell too much of it.

There is no middle-ground for blokes. We don’t know that it exists. And if we’re told about it, we’re not clever enough to find it. No, that middle-ground is reserved solely for women, whose mastery of emotions and morals make them brilliant at not only finding this middle ground but also being right all the sodding time.

Now, as I’m not a woman, I can’t explain the middle-ground. But I can totally explain the crap that surrounds it. Take that extract from Nip/Tuck, for example. It’s very extreme, but he does start off by not telling her enough truth (first by using his infidelity as an excuse to dump her, then by saying she was too good for him) before telling her too much truth (you’re a fucking cripple, I hate it!). And what is drama, if not a massive caricature of our own psychologies and societies?

All guys do this. Frittering away the truth in favour of excuses and lies, or (usually, when there’s no other recourse) just tactlessly blurting out a big truth-vomit.

But hey, that’s okay – there are two options there, one of which is undiluted truth. So why does that make us lying buggers? It’s all to do with girls’ reactions to undiluted truth – they can’t fucking handle it. No, hear me out…

Girls are used to their magical world of pyjama parties where nobody looks fat in anything, ever, and all speech is pre-processed through an infinite configuration of morality loops and empathy inducers to make sure that nothing can be taken the wrong way. Everything is said according to the middle-ground rules that guys just don’t get. It’s the truth, but the palatable truth. I don’t even know what that fucking means, but it’s something I’ve been told about by many a girl.

Girls don’t like things told straight. Simple as. And when you do tell it to them straight, they will never like you. Not because they can’t trust you. But because they can’t trust you “with their heart”, or some such waffle. So what do we do? We plump for option (i) – not telling enough truth. We replace with big, filthy lies and find – hey! – I’ve got a date..!

Adaptation.

We don’t all do it. Christian doesn’t. And I don’t. My post yesterday was a great example of an option (ii) fuck-up, in that if you said it to your girlfriend you’d be sleeping with the cushions. Even though it’s absolutely true. And yep, I’d tell my girlfriend that (if she asked), and it’s probably the reason I never have one. Hey ho. But that’s me, and I’m a total minority in that respect. Most guys will settle for option (i) fuck-ups, as at least with those, you’re sitting pretty until you’re found out.

And so – by way of guys’ inability to express themselves properly, and girls’ inability to not be delicate – we are all caught in a maelstrom of cunt.

Yep. Boo fucking hoo.