I'm Lying to You
…but never about the important things; only about the little things. And about the little things, I’m almost always lying, and exuberantly. I do this because I love you, friends, all of you.
Yes, that guy you love is handsome, but only because I see him through your eyes and let myself feel acutely how much you care for him; then yes, oh my yes, is he ever handsome. Isn’t it more important that we can adore people despite their hairy arms or lazy eyes or thinning hair? Look at that man you love, how bashful he is, how he can’t hold eye contact; it’s endearing, much more so than his white teeth or the way his arm fills a sleeve…
When I say you still look 25, what I mean is that you have laugh lines like mild canyons around your mouth, and I love them; what could be more beautiful than the marks from years of laughter? I’ll say that outfit looks great on you, that you look amazing tonight, but what I mean is that your eyes, which never gain or lose weight, are the most unusual shade of brown, almost a dirty-blonde. Dirty-blonde eyes! Who cares about your dress then?
In a way, what I do isn’t really lying; I, as myself and not someone who is a stranger to you, simply don’t see the superficial things you obsess over. I don’t see the blemish, the small double-chin. If I love you, why should I see you the way strangers would? Why should I not be able to enthuse over you the way I want to? Where a more objective person might find superficial flaws, I see my perfect, beloved friend. So when you are dressed up and all excited to go out, I’m going to say you look wonderful, because to me, you always do.
I’m a terrible judge, but I’m the one you want, because I’ll vote for you every time. I’d rather give you confidence than honesty, because we all have flaws, we all look haggard and tired some nights, and if I notice it, I’ll lie about it every single time. I won’t just omit the negative, I’ll overlay it with what I see more clearly, which is the ideal, the person I know.
Do you want this small-time criminal as your friend? I don’t know if I would; I like to think that someone will rain on my aesthetic parade if it’s necessary, but I can’t do it, not unless it’s extreme (Take those leggings off! Don’t shave your head!). If I love you, you will always look wonderful, always smell good, always be hotter than that other girl, and always look as young as the day we met. Liar, liar, pants on fire! But I can’t help what I see…