I have a perfect relationship. We’ve been together for years, we never argue, and we’re madly in love. The secret to our happiness? At the outset of our courtship, I decided to lie to my boyfriend (for his own good of course).
If he asks what I ate for breakfast, and I had toast, I can’t tell him that. Doing so would allow him to reverse-engineer my thought process, and within a few meals he could know everything about me, even the fact that I want babies. (And he can never know that, at least until after they’re born.)
So my brain races for an answer before I casually chime, “Waffles.” I have just thrown the sucker for a loop. This way he will never suspect that I wasn’t asked to prom or that I surreptitiously pop in my retainer every night.
If my boyfriend asks what I’m reading, and the truth is the New Yorker, I’ll tell him I’m perusing Getting to Yes. His entire course of thinking about our relationship will be changed by this. If he’s lying to me also, he’ll be forced to pile on secondary and tertiary tales to make up for my budding interpersonal finesse. He might even marry me because he thinks I don’t want to get married.
I know all this sounds too good to be true. I assure you it’s not, but if you’re considering my method, please be advised that users must have a meticulous memory. Last night I accused my boyfriend of saying the wrong name in bed. I forgot which one I told him.