I Want a Man to Tell Me Lies!

Hearing Lies

(This is a satirical dating profile from my book, Fake Personal Ads (Or Real Personal Ads for Fake People).)

WOMEN SEEKING MEN

Yes, boys, honesty is a virtue and all that happy horse shit, but, come on, do I really want to hear the truth that I do indeed look fat in that dress, especially after I dropped half a week’s paycheck to buy the damn thing? Do I really want to hear you tell me that the hair on my arms makes me look like an ape, and if not an ape, then some freak in a circus act? Do you really expect me to smile when you offer an accurate description of my size-thirteen shoes as objects that could be used as boats in a flood to save a family of five? You may read the above words, and counter with, But isn’t honesty the very backbone of a good relationship? To which I say, Bullshit!

Pah-leeze, if we are being honest here, let’s just all admit to the fact that every love song is an outright fabrication. Is it really possible, according to Bruce Springsteen, for a girl’s eyes to “shine like the midnight sun?” The reality is that a lady with eyes that emit blinding beams of white light would scare the crap out of the villagers, who would burn her at the stake. But the other reality is that, Bruce, you can sing that shit to me anytime, and, what is more, I damn well may believe it.

I want to hear that you, my future boyfriend, will love me forever, though the best case scenario will be forty years tops when you take into account the one big truth that none of us can bullshit our way out of – and that’s Death. You have to give the nod to the dude who wrote the marriage vow, “Till Death do us part,” for at least expecting romanticism to abide by the laws of physics. But I say, fuck the laws of physics, and instead spin me the lie of how, in the afterlife, we will live in heavenly domestic bliss forever and ever, regardless of how you may grow tired of my Honey-to-do lists after the first two thousand years.

There was an Italian Renaissance cynic, Pietro Aretino, who wrote: “I love you, and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies.” Well, Signore Aretino, that’s your opinion. I will adore any man who tells me beautiful lies, even when I know they are lies, for instance that I am the most beautiful woman in the world, though People Magazine has never even heard of me; and hate any man who tells me that I look fat in my new dress, even when the dress tag reads “20.”

So I will date the man who responds to this ad with the most outrageous lies. I will even accept plagiarism, and help you in that direction by pointing you to the sappiest love-song artist of all-time, Paul McCartney:

Baby I’m amazed at the way you’re with me all the time Maybe I’m afraid of the way I leave you Baby I’m amazed at the way you help me sing my song You right me when I’m wrong Maybe I’m amazed at the way I really need you

Oh, Paul, you say the nicest things to me!

 

(Check out my website: http://www.authorjamesfjohnson.com)

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