Here's your place to come talk about sex and love whenever you feel like it.
I think it’s fair to say that we men lie about pretty much everything. In fact, I’d go as far to say that there isn’t a single aspect of our lives that my male brethren won’t tell porkies about.
[As an aside (hence the square brackets) I have to say at this point – especially to any exes or dalliances of the past who may be reading this – that I am indeed different and am renowned among my friends as ‘he who doesn’t lie’. I have never lied to get out of anything or, indeed, to get into anyone. And, also, while we’re at it – any scenarios or situations relayed within this piece are purely fictional and any similarity to real life incidents are purely coincidental, and so now back to the piece…]
Some consider magic to be a kind of deceit/lying – I beg to differ, but then I'm truly magic
We lie about our health (‘nah, it’s fine, there’s no need to see a doctor – the cheesy, fungal stuff will clear itself up’); we lie to our friends (on one stag do, the stag woke up to find his leg ‘broken’ and in a full plaster cast – only after the wedding day, did his ‘friends’ reveal it wasn’t broken after all – cue one very angry bride); we lie about jobs (‘yah, just biding my time here, while penning my novel/writing my first album/waiting for acting career to take off); we lie about our sex life (‘she was sooo hot and in no way did she have a face like a box of spanners’); we even to lie ourselves (how else can you explain so many overweight men deciding that wearing lycra is a good idea – just because you go to the gym/ride an expensive bike does not mean you instantly lose three stone if you put on sportswear. Lose the weight first, fatty, then you can wear lycra. Even then it’s not a very good idea – unless you’re Mr Motivator of course, in which case that’s just your workwear. Presuming that is Mr Motivator still motivates for a job. But then if he didn’t, I guess he’d just be Mr… Has anyone seen Mr Motivator lately? Answers on a postcard…)
Apologies for that. Once again, I’m being distracted by myself and my overlong sentences. The point I’m making is that you just can’t trust us. When I asked girl friends (that is girl friends, not girlfriends – sadly, I’ve not even one of the latter let alone multiples), they came up with a torrent of examples of deceit.
Generally, the examples were the same ol’, same ol’ – bloke cheats, tries to cover it up, gets caught. The kind of dastardly deeds to which you’ve surely become accustomed. Some do go beyond that. One girl’s partner had denied sleeping with a random, only to disappear from the scene and, via his brother, post her some antibiotics for Chlamydia in an unmarked envelope six months later. Which was nice.
One chap explained his disappearance to a girlfriend as being due to a period of mourning for his father who had died while in the SAS in the 1980 siege on the Iranian Embassy – nobody in the SAS died during this. Points at least for being a bit creative.
Another told of visiting the Vatican as her dying mother’s last wish. Meanwhile, her partner took the opportunity to strip the house, empty the bank accounts and do a runner. Not so much liar, more an evil bastard.
Bear in mind, these are just the lies you girls know about – there’s gazillions more that you’ll never ever find out about.
But it’s not in these extreme instances that you will learn anything about the male psyche, it’s more in the kind of lies that I would happily suggest at least 95 per cent of blokes have told. And it’s nearly always to do with sex. We will say everything and anything to get sex. I’ve lost count of the amount of female friends who’ve complained about the ‘timing not being right’ or ‘he’s not in the right place’ or ‘he’s complicated’ or ‘he’s not over his ex’. And this is always when he’s giving reasons why, after they’ve had sex with him, he’s decided not to do it again.
In short, the brutal honesty is that you were handy but there’s no way he sees you as girlfriend material. We are wankers (in every sense, although it’s true that there are times when a hand shandy just won’t cut it). We are also very, very simple people. Just lying, cowardly people who don’t have the guts to say ‘yeah, sorry about that, had fun, enjoyed seeing you naked, but just used you for sex really’. [And, at this point, I would like to remind everyone who knows me to re-read the previous note in square brackets]
We are not deep and meaningful. When we say ‘I need to be on my own’, it means we are a bit bored and would like to discover what other women look like naked. When we look thoughtful, we’re not really thinking (think that monkey scratching itself in Homer’s head).
And while we may lie to get out of relationships/situations/bedrooms, one thing you can be sure is that pretty much every bloke is always ready to move on – presuming you’re a better option than the ex. When we say ‘we’re over our ex’, we really are – presuming you fit a certain criteria that is…
Not that we’re alone in the lying front. I think it was comedian Chris Rock who pointed out that with all the fake nails, hair colour, eyebrows, boobs etc etc, you guys are lying to us all the time. Why else do you all look so different in the morning?
All of this really is simple stuff, as I’m sure many of you know. If we're talking, we’re probably lying. And yet, I remain staggered at the amount of women who choose to believe a lie rather than accept the truth. As every bloke will attempt to tell you, there are exceptions to this rule – but they’re also lying, trust me.
Except for me that is because, as I said, I am ‘he who doesn’t lie’. And, come on really, would I lie to you? Would I? Yeah, you’re right, probably would…
What is the worst lie you’ve been told? Or indeed what is the worst lie you’ve told yourself? Are men worse than women when it comes to fibbing? I want to know…