Don’t be afraid to close your eyes. Pretend I’m someone that you love. –Trisha Yearwood, Like We Never Had a Broken Heart

I have always been an individual who has prided myself on being appreciative of the truth. Even when it isn’t necessarily what I want to hear, I’m preferential to the truth because I feel like I’m worthy of it. I am honest and genuine, and I expect the same respect back. It only seems fair, reciprocal. 

But I also realize that there are some times when it can just be easier to smooth things over. I understand that there are certain moments that call for charm and charisma. Some situations take the finesse of a man like Don Draper because it can be a preventative measure in regards to a future explosive outburst. I am descendant of an Italian family from Long Island, friends. I get it. Everything with my dad was what we would call (and still call) “need to know basis” because if he got really upset, sometimes he would flip over our kitchen table.

But I also realize that sometimes, that charm can go a little too far in pleasing people. Sometimes all that overcompensation can be far too much. It can make a scenario go from alleviating the problem to creating a bigger one that festers because lies have become too commonplace. Sometimes being smoothed over can be aggravating because obviously, there exists some sort of ulterior motive. He isn’t charming you because you’re knocking them dead in that coral banded dress. He’s doing it because he went out last night, drank too many Tanqueray martinis, and went home with a really passable transvestite hooker. 

So somehow, being charmed progresses into being played and now you just look like a big, dumb idiot. You have suddenly morphed into Karen Hill, so naïve to all your man’s extracurricular activities. You’re too busy being seduced and persuaded by a guy with an enormous wallet, an even bigger smile, and a $4000 Armani suit. And then, after all that pristine flash, when you find out all of this man’s illicit happenings, where is the trust?

I toasted you, said, “Honey, we may be through but you’ll never hear me complain”. –Garth Brooks, Friends in Low Places

I once dated this guy who, at first, I assumed really wasn’t my type. He was just too charming, too forthcoming; he possessed this dark, severed broken heart and the inherent desire to find what he had coined his “true love”, which made him only mildly adorable. He was this sincere, allegedly broken-hearted, handsome mess of a man and every word he spoke to me flowed out like it was made of velvet. And I believed every single, fictional word of it.

It’s funny the way certain things stick with you not matter how much time has passed. I don’t remember any of the various compliments he paid me throughout our short time together other than he had this fascination with my eyes. He would go on incessantly about how gorgeous and sparkling they were, how distracting they were from conversation because they were always glittering so bright. 

At first I thought, he is so charming and thoughtful (and very clearly has great taste).He was such a fresh change from my ex-boyfriend, who I honestly don’t believe had ever paid me a legitimate compliment. This man, on the other hand, never had a negative word escape his lips and he apparently found me breathtaking.

But over time, it sort of became too much. He was so complimentary and flirtatious, it almost didn’t seem real. It was borderline scripted, like he had just read a blog on how to be Cary Grant caliber charming and continually rehearsed that nonsense in front of a mirror.

Example: One time, he invited me to go out somewhere with him and his friends. I want to say that maybe it was the beach, but I can’t remember. Anyways, that part isn’t important. What is important is that I had already had plans. I told him that although I would have loved to go, I couldn’t because my best friend (who I had said plans with) would take my first born. To which he replied, “Well, since your first born will probably be my first born, I should probably let you go.”

Life is a beautiful thing, as long as I hold the string. –Frank Sinatra, I’ve Got the World on a String

Listen, I just now read over this and I realize how utterly stupid it all sounds. I replay the movie in my head and laugh at how much of a total player this dude was. But I was super young and impressionable. I had only had a couple of relationships, one of them really, really terrible, and so naturally, I took everything this man said as actual gospel. Because he was always so charismatic when he spoke to me, even if it was just to ask me to steal the sports page out of my newspaper while we sat at my bistro set. 

I remember once, I was sitting in a car with a bunch of my girlfriends and I told them all I was dating this guy and everyone in the car turned up my nose. He apparently had this lothario reputation, whether it be in a charming fashion or otherwise. “No, no, no,” I shook my head in the back seat. “You bitches don’t know him like I do. Stop talking shit.” 

Of course he was obviously in love with me! The things he had said to me? Why would he lie? Am I right? 

But the thing is, I don’t think that he was intentionally deceitful. Looking back on it, I don’t think that he had any deep, authentic feelings for me but I also don’t believe that he was trying to set me up for failure. I think that in this particular case, maybe he was just saying what I wanted to hear for any number of reasons. Maybe, rather selflessly, he thought it was what I needed after what I had been through. He had seen some of the nightmare that was my life first hand and maybe he just felt sorry for me. Maybe he wanted to show me an exemplary version of the male species so that I could reach my romantic potential and find someone perfect for me. Or maybe that’s just the crap people tell you, I don’t know.

It could also be that he was saying what I wanted to hear to get horizontal refreshments out of me. I hate to think that that’s all this was about because I want to believe we shared a slightly stronger bond. But hey- stranger things have definitely happened.

I also think that perhaps on some level, I was his little charity project. Part of me thinks that maybe he really liked the whole fix-me-upper caliber I possessed. Maybe it was his military background but it was almost as if he wanted to fix me. 

One of the things that I distinctly remember from our short, meaningless time together is him nicely lecturing me about obtaining a savings account. He asked me if I had one, I of course said “no”, and he said, “Katieeee,” dragging out the e’s in this crazy distress. “You have to have a savings account!” I rolled my eyes and traced the hearts on my clearanced out Care Bear bedspread. 

“I’ll get one,” I said. “One day, when I have my own practice and I’ve retired to write crime thrillers.” He chuckled through his end of the phone and I could hear his smile. “Because what happens when something serious happens to you and you don’t have a savings account?” I burrowed deeper under the covers and sipped my fruity wine cooler, “... then I die.”

Moral of the Crazy: The point is, I don’t think he was trying to deceive me or push me down the road to crazy. I think that maybe also, he didn’t think I would take such stock in everything he said. He didn’t assume I would be so trusting and believe all those adorable little, nonsense comments. 

But in my opinion, he probably should have. I was so young and despite what I had been through, I was living in a fantasy world where people loved each other and went salsa dancing. I believed that men were put on this earth to sweep women off their feet, and I wanted that. I wanted romance and promises, true love and destiny fulfillment. All I knew thus far was 17 page domestic violence injunctions, explosive fights, and the brethren of fire fighters. So as bad as it sounds, I sort of fell prey to the first person who was nice to me. It was such a new experience; I was left absolutely rapt by it.

So I don’t want to say that he’s entirely blameless but I don’t think his deceit was intentional. I mean, to his discredit, he had to know that what he was saying would have some sort of effect on me. He had to know I would go ahead and assume I was the only kiss on his list. Because after how he had acted and what he had said, why wouldn’t I be? He had to know that on some level, saying things like that to another person, with or without genuine intent, cannot go unpunished. He couldn’t have just assumed I would cast it all aside and treat him like just some handsome bedfellow. This isn’t the Jersey Shore. He isn’t The Situation. 

Hello. I am a woman. What did he expect would happen?

I guess my point is just that sometimes all those sweet nothings can be terribly misleading. And when that happens, the fault doesn’t fall to the male for deceiving her but to his female counterpart for being clingy and annoying. It just doesn’t seem fair. This type of illusory can be destructive and honestly, it led me to not believe anything that anyone said for a long time. Someone would say, “Hey, you look nice today,” and I would think to myself, “Yeah, thanks but you’re just full of shit.” Because similarly to abusive situations, it only takes one guy to ruin it for the rest of the world. 

So my advice, if ever neurotic, is just to be mindful of what you say. In my marriage and family therapy class, I learned that you should never say anything to anyone that you wouldn’t say in front of your spouse (or significant other). I also learned that when you build a relationship on deception, it’s sort of like building a house after a hurricane: the foundation will never be stable. 

But all prophetic words of wisdom aside, I think it’s just best to say what you mean and mean what you say. Because although you may have wide shoulders, you don’t want to carry the burden of ruining someone great for someone else.

“Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.” –Edgar Allan Poe