Pinocchio Syndrome

images I hate being lied to over anything, big or small.

As you recall, every time Pinocchio told a lie his nose grew. What I long to say to a man fibbing his little ass off is…don’t you wish everything got bigger when you lied?

I used to date a guy who lied about everything. If he said it was raining, I’d stick my head out the window to check.

He was a cop…it was during my blue collar period where I was gaga over any guy with a semblance of a tool belt, Charlie’s nightstick nestling in his holster having hot appeal.

There was also the telephone repairman who got my attention by saying, “Hey, pretty girl…wanna call Japan?”

A twenty year-old’s hormones are not very selective, or apologetic for that matter. Who cares if we’re doing it in a police car. It’s cheaper and handier than a hotel.

Both these men told me whoppers…Officer Pinocchio lived with a woman and had a son. When I confronted him he said, “Oh I meant to tell ya,” as if he forgot to mention he had cats.

Jamie, whose biceps were the size of baseballs from all that drainpipe climbing back in the day when wires were stapled, was gay, said I looked like such a little boy he just couldn’t help himself. Thank goodness it was in the 70s before I could catch anything other than a cold he being a nature boy from Colorado. Have you ever done it in the grass? Like screwing on the beach, it looks better on paper since there are no mosquito bites.

My mother lied too, not necessarily to me (though she did say pizza wasn’t fattening), but to my dad and the wives of men accusing her of fooling around with their husbands. She could have played one helluva game of poker with her Mona Lisa smile denying any involvement whatsoever even offering them coffee and her recipe for sponge cake.

I hate to lie going to great lengths not to by evading the issue. Camille, bless her little duplicitous heart, taught me how to cheerfully change a subject so the question flees into flattery towards the other person who forgets what they’ve asked. “You really like my hair this way? I look like Uma Thurman…really?”

It’s a honed skill, and one that keeps those fibs from infecting the atmosphere. The worst kind of lie is when it involves a third party, like that call at midnight from a suspicious boyfriend. “Is Camille there? She said she was spending the night.” This is a harder nut to crack but not totally impossible.

“Hello, hello? I don’t know who this is but I can’t hear you…sorry…click” Trouble with that one is it can only be used once, possibly twice after he says,”Isn’t it time to call the phone company to report this?” It’s a fib wrapped in cellophane since you don’t actually lie about the person in question…just your phone.

“Hello, hello? I don’t know who this is but I can’t hear you…

sorry.”

SB

 

 

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About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
This entry was posted in humor, sex, sexual relationships, Uncategorized, women, Women and men and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

51 Responses to Pinocchio Syndrome

  1. Oh, if only the whole Pinocchio detecter were real….
    I WAS married to a professional lier. If he said “it’s Thursday” I was heading to a calendar for verification. Exhausting is an understatement.
    Isn’t there a mandatory heads-up when you are being used as a cover story? Jeez!

    Like

    • I love the expression – beard. You can see yourself dangling from the fibber’s chin like a trapeze artist. Most liars have no shame over it, it’s just part of who they are. Mysterious when you waste your time thinking about it, and to think I wrote a whole post. Huh…:)

      Like

  2. skinnyuz2b says:

    My husband has a sister who tells whoppers for no apparent reason. Like you said, if she says its raining outside, you look out the window. I can forgive those type of lies, they aren’t for any type of gain, just pathetic attention.
    And Susannah, I recall those nondiscriminatory 20s too, with a shake of the head accompanied with a remembering smile.

    Like

  3. Elle Knowles says:

    I use that phone thing sometimes when I want to end a call from my sister! Lol! “Hello? Are you still there? I can’t hear you…” CLICK! But no on the lies. Do not ever lie to me! ~Elle

    Like

  4. micklively says:

    I can’t say that I’ve always been entirely honest but I know that I’m utterly rubbish at telling lies. I don’t have the memory for it, apart from anything else. Also, my acting skills are seriously suspect. Maeve can read me like a book. So I’ve given it up as a lost cause. I find it’s easier if I never do anything I need to lie about: problem solved.

    Like

  5. My ex had a penchant for “shading the truth.” It wasn’t quite a lie but it was a deception nonetheless. Boogers!

    Like

  6. AnElephantCant say he has never told a fib
    But lovely Susannah puts him in a blue funk
    He is somewhat uncouth
    But he does usually tell the truth
    He hasn’t got a long nose but he has got a trunk

    Like

  7. “Officer Pinocchio”…too funny. Don’t get me wrong, sure the lies weren’t funny. “And don’t you wish everything got bigger when you lie.” Now that would make me think twice before even telling a little white lie…I’d be so worried about my pants!

    Like

  8. Gives new meaning to “Liar, liar pants on fire!”

    Like

  9. The third party lie is the worst. I’d be annoyed (or should I say, have been annoyed) at people asking me to lie for them. I like your solution: not exactly a lie by omission but at least a lie by disconnection. πŸ™‚

    Like

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