We're going to try this honesty thing...

I haven't been writing much lately. I know a lot of it has to do with not dealing with things. If it's all in my head, then I can convince myself of whatever is necessary to get through the week, or day, or miniature crisis I'm dealing with at the moment. It's harder when the thoughts are on paper. Things become concrete and real. Even after I've torn a page out of my notebook or deleted something from my computer screen, the ideas and feelings are still there. I let myself put enough importance in the thoughts and feelings that they made it to paper. Then I'm committed. That's dangerous.

Someone famous (I'm thinking it was Mark Twain?) said that writers are liars. I doubt there is a statement closer to the truth. I spend so much time manipulating characters and plots that it's become easy to do the same in real life. I've taken conversations out of context and imagined motives for people's actions. The result is a world so far from reality that it may as well be a fairy tale. Wonderful people have become villains. I like it that way. It serves my purpose and I've become accustomed to basking in the the bull-shit.

Example A: Guy at party.

We meet. He tries to impress me by slurring extremely ridiculous pick-up lines. I'm bored so I happily play along. We make out. He falls asleep. I leave with no real expectation of ever seeing him again. A few days later we exchange an impersonal text message which relieves our collective conscience then go on with our lives.

... Rehashing the details over coffee with the girls : He becomes the charming guy who spent all night chatting with me and was polite enough to get me drinks. The kissing was full of butterflies and fireworks. And he MUST be interested, after all he did text me the next day.

Exaggeration. Manipulation. Bullshit.

However, it keeps me from having to dish about my possible real life romance and the problems that have arisen because of my lack of commitment. There is no lecture from the girls about missing out on my "one true love" and they have enough gossip to last them a few weeks before they come back asking for more.

In reality... the guy was just someone I knew from a mutual friend. He was drunk and looking for a quick hook-up. I was one of the only single girls at the party. The flirting was just formality and his conversation skills were lacking. So, I let him kiss me so I wouldn't have to hear him talk. The text message was just a way of covering his ass because we have some of the same friends and he wouldn't want me to ruin his chances with the other girls by complaining that he's a jerk who kissed me then never called.

At least that's what I tell myself...