I Hate Liars!
If you can't speak the truth, then don't friend me. Don't even try. I can't stand liars!
That's what she tells me every day. She counts on honesty. She wants me to be honest with her at all times. Her resolve on this matter is absolute.
“Don't you just hate liars, babe? Some people lie right to your face and then believe what they’re telling you. They actually believe their own lies. I mean, why do they have to lie anyway? The world would be a much better place without liars. I've no time for them. I don't know what drives people to lie anyway, do you?”
She leans into her mirror and then runs a thick layer of Allure's Rouge over her thin, pale lips. “If I ever found out that you were lying to me, it’d be over. Remember that.”
You may think that's an extreme threat — but it’s not the first time I’ve heard it. This promise to leave has loomed over us ever since we met. I don’t like liars either, but I recognise contradictions when I see them.
She leads the charge in lie-telling.
Those are not her lips in the mirror. They are the first lie. The change in her face is dramatic. Allure’s Rouge turns her tweedy slits into a pop of dazzling colour and statement.
“And honesty is the most important thing, don't you think?”
After coating her face with various tones to conceal her freckles and flatten her bones into oblivion, she takes a liner to her eyelids. Those tiny puddles become oceans within minutes.
She disrobes and tucks two pouches into her bra. She squeezes her cheeks into wonder jeans and then steps into moderate-sized heels that change the shape of her legs.
“What do you think about my hair? I just love these new extensions Dianna did for me last week. She even found the same blonde tones, right down to the highlights.”
Blonde? Of course not. Without a chemical treatment, she’s a mousy brown.
“Great.”
To compete with her blonde peers, she became one. The extensions were required because frequent treatments have ruined her hair.
“I like you with long hair.”
She smiles and swishes the excess around, ties it into a bun on the top of her head and pins it into place. “What about these stringy bits down the sides? Aren't they cute?”
She winds a loose lock around a heating wand and then releases it into a gentle curl that bounces by her temple.
“What about leaving all of it down?”
“Down is boring. Besides, I have a nice neck and this makes me look sophisticated.”
If only she were.
A cleavage-revealing blouse is slipped over her head. She kisses me while pulling it down to her waist. “Good relationships are built on honesty, don't you agree?”
I tell her what she wants to hear because I'm a gentleman and that’s what makes her happy.
“Yes. Absolutely.”
It's a crock of shit though.
There are two rules at play here. She has the one she wants me to agree to and the other she lives by. That’s okay. I need her to believe she's right. Her new lips, eyes, tits, butt, legs, hair and sophisticated neck, mean nothing to me. I’ve seen them without lies.
I’ll remain calm and do what’s required to follow her to her new lover's home, and then correct karma’s imbalance after she settles in.
Right now, I just need to smile and nod.
We embrace. She walks to the doorway but turns back one last time. “I've booked the fifth for teeth whitening and a spray tan. She can’t do it any other day. Can you tell anyone who texts or rings on that day that I'm at work?”
Yes, sweetheart.
Honesty is very important.