Outrageous Liar
I was diagnosed, such as it
was, with Munchausen syndrome when I was thirteen years old.
Apparently they need to wait until you're at least showing signs
of puberty to diagnose it, as apparently children lie a whole
lot. Even for a kid, though, I was really bad, and it only got
worse. As years went on, I became something of an old hand at it.
I'm not actually sure why I do it; it's not a pathological thing,
I'm told, and I could easily choose not to do it, but so far, I
see no reason to. I started small; telling my playmates I was
born in another country, usually England although Russia was also
a top choice (I would say that I left too early to get an
accent), and sometimes getting a little more grandiose, like
inventing friends, family members, or making up television shows
and saying how great they were. The secret,I think, is that you
sort of need to half-believe it yourself, and also to not have
much to gain by lying. It makes you seem more sincere, I guess.
This continued for quite a while, until I got bored with simple
falsehoods. Again, I'm not sure why I do it; it sort of gives me
little frisson to know that someone has bought into something
I've told them. I don't always do it to impress girls, although
sometimes that is, in fact, the case. It's almost like a drug,
complete with tolerance, and I find that I need to invent bigger
and more outlandishly stupid things just to get the same thrill
when someone completely buys it. The most notable example I can
think of is two of my "ex-girlfriends," Betty and
Charlotte. Neither girl exists, nor, to my knowlegde, have they
ever. Charlotte was a complete invention, and Betty was a story I
made up about some photo of a girl in a club who, for whatever
reason, had her arm around me. But impressing girls is almost a
science. For whatever reason, women are really into men in bands.
So of course, I'm suddenly a musician. It's easier now more than
ever to fool someone this way, because there are so many bands
that sound pretty much alike, and whose members are almost
entirely devoid of character and forgettable. The majority of the
one-night stands in my life were girls who really thought they
were sleeping with the drummer (it needs to be drummer or
"programmer" because otherwise they might have an
instrument they want me to play, and I can barely play the kazoo)
for Papa Roach, Days of the New, Disturbed, The Nixons, or
whoever. I've actually inented bands before, and women have told
me they love our sound or similar. Either they're lying, too, or
are highly suggestible, but either way they believe my line of
bullshit.
I don't know why it is I don't feel bad about this. I probably
should, but I just can't bring myself to. Every time someone says
it's so cool that Sarah McLachlan is my cousin (I don't really
dig her music but she's such a card at Thanksgiving) or honestly
feels bad for me because my mother and father both died shortly
after I was born and I never knew them (and certainly neither of
them are alive and well and living twenty minutes from me) I sort
of giggle and clap internally, and plan my next move.
I sometimes wonder if it's possible, if not paradoxically
nonsensical, to lie about having Munchausen's syndrome. Lie about
lying, if you will. None of the above is true. Betty and
Charlotte were real people, and nothing else even approaches
truth. But you believed it, didn't you? I am confused as hell
now. I mean, the entire story above is a fabrication, but if I'm
lying about it, then what? I really have no idea, and it's making
my head hurt, so I'm going to stop typing.