The lies that women tell have purpose. There’s a reason. You can draw a line from start to finish and see why the lie came to be.
Women tell big lies that get the job done. Beefy lies with muscles to do the heavy lifting. Lies of necessity that came to serve a cause.
But the lies that men tell are a completely different sort.
Men tell little lies, useless lies, lies that have no business being in existence.
Skinny lies that accomplish nothing but wind themselves around your throat, cutting off your air.
Men tell weak lies.
Men tell unnecessary lies.
Lies like “I want to marry you and if I wasn’t with this person, I’d be with you.”
Lies like that accomplish nothing.
If you really wanted, you’d leave and be with who you wanted.
So why say it? It’s so unnecessary. And all it does is further convince many women that there is something intrinsically, uncontrollably evil about men for lies to slip out so easily from their lips.
Men tell lies that make you feel stupid and useless. Like you failed at life and never learned how or maybe nobody taught you how. Like you don’t know any of the things that other girls/women your age seem to effortlessly know. Don’t know how to be beautiful, don’t know how to get married, don’t know how to be in a relationship, or have a boyfriend, or even be liked or like-able.
Don’t know how not be a side chick, don’t know how to ever be a main chick, don’t know how to not be the fool that doesn’t even need leading on because it’s so fucking obvious to everyone that it’s not going anywhere and it will NEVER go anywhere. Ugly, worthless, and useless.
So you think about it sometimes and wonder how everything will turn out and how you will end up and if any of those Happily Ever Afters was ever meant for you. You can’t imagine anyone wanting to date you, much less marry you.
Sometimes you wonder why you’re not worthy. Fuck it, I wonder ALL THE TIME.
Why you were never good enough, why you were never pretty enough, why you were never wanted, or why he could never feel proud and always felt ashamed. Why your what you thought was love was always something he had to hide?
It can’t be that I ate my feelings until they receded into a dull ache. It can’t be that, because when I was thin, he was still ashamed so it can’t just be that I’m twice the size I used to be, or that I dress like a bum, or that I don’t wear any earrings even though I should.
I’m so tired of crying and wishing I had the courage to slit my throat but I cry anyway when it gets too much and I still wish I wasn’t such a coward.
And inside I’m afraid that even if tomorrow I was suddenly beautiful, and rich, and thin, and everything that I am obviously and apparently not. Even if all my failings were to suddenly disappear, it would never be enough.
This is the reason I am terrified to have a child.
If I had a daughter, I would be so afraid for her.
Afraid, because I have to ask:
Who is worthy?
And why am I not?
If I had a son, I would hate him.