I am by no means a misandrist, but from my own experiences I am here to tell you – them boys… they lie. Girls, watch out!
Of course, Wyatt lied. He lied about his faithfulness even as he demanded I be faithful. He lied about love and about sin. Every word out of his mouth was a lie – but I’m not here to talk about him. I am here to talk about the pervasive untruths that even seemingly good guys will tell.
The biggest one in my mind is the falsehood that a prophylactic doesn’t fit. “It’s too small,” they say. “It’s uncomfortable” or “It hurts,” they say. Sven told me this lie. To be honest, I had good reason to believe he was telling the truth. He said even the magnum size was too tight. I was eighteen and I don’t know if it was purely naïveté or the inherent need to please my men – a trait that was cultivated during my relationship with Wyatt. One other man told me this same untruth and I was a little more skeptical in this case. Though he’d like to think it, there was honestly no competition. I did not contradict him, however; because along with the need to please was the need to not provoke reprisal.
I was in my 30s before I realized. I’m sure you’ve seen it – that picture floating around the internet where a girl has stretched one over her foot and says something to the effect of “This is why I don’t believe boys when they say it doesn’t fit.”
Upon seeing this for the first time, my immediate thought was “Oh, EFFFF YOOOOU, Sven!”
I’ve heard lies like “I don’t love my girlfriend, we’re going to break up anyway.” I’ve been given lame excuses when I had been let down. Possibly the most common untruth has been when various men said they cared about, or even loved, me.
Another standout memory I have is of Ethan. My best friend when I was about 15, in Ethiopia. He was a good boy, he was a Christian… why would he lie?
We were both in late 9th grade, and we took several of the same classes. One such class was Art where we had a bitter Finnish woman as our teacher. Impressing her was a difficult task, so after I had finished a sketch of a female nude whose head was a flower and whose legs were up to the knees in water (a study from a book that Florian had let me borrow) and I got an approving head nod from her, I took it as a complement.
Then Ethan decided he would do a nude study. Or so he said. He said he needed a live model because he had a harder time copying from pictures. He convinced me to help him out one day after school, though I refused to get completely nude for him. We went into one of the kiln rooms and I stripped down to my skivvies. Matching florescent tie-dye bra and panties from Joe Cool. …Hey… it was the late ’90s.
He furrowed his brow and looked concentrated as he sketched on a piece of paper, looking up every now and then to study me or tell me to move slightly. Then I quickly threw on my clothes and we left in a hurry when we heard our teacher enter the art rooms.
He wouldn’t let me see the initial sketch because it was just a rough one. He said we might need another session. I started to get suspicious only when I realized he hadn’t been working on anything like that in class afterwards.
Several months later I was over at his house, chatting with him while he was searching around his room for something. He came across a piece of paper, he laughed and held it up for me to see. He told me that it was the sketch he drew of me… and all it had were a few pencil lines here and there on the otherwise blank page – where he had pretended to sketch as he sat in a dim room to study me in my undressed state.
I found out shortly later he did the same thing to one of my other good friends.