If only it was that easy. If only you could sit across from the man you consider the love of your life, and see little wisps of smoke making their way up from his beltline. If only the nose he complained about as being annoyingly large already would grow ever so slightly. If only the online dating site you thought was the answer to your lovelorn prayers had been programmed to automatically highlight misrepresentations of height (5’9,” my ass!), marital status, and true intentions. If only he hadn’t been a consummate liar.
Four months ago I broke up with the man I had been dating for two years when I caught him in a doozy of a lie. The lie required several intricate stories told over the course of a week to throw me off the path of his deceit. Once I figured it out, I confronted him. He vaguely, sort of, mildly apologized. I finally woke up to who he was, and realized he had hammered the final nail in the coffin of our dead relationship.
Since the break-up, I have discovered that the killer lie was only one of many, including the one extolled in his online dating profile and confirmed in our first conversation: “I am divorced.” It appears now that the only divorce papers he held were the ones he got when he left his integrity in the dust. I like to imagine he sent it a lovely letter to seal the end of their probably short-lived marriage.
I’m sorry to say I’ve just come to a place where it is a little too difficult and inconvenient for me to be married to you. My friends and family always said you brought out the best in me. You probably did.
But, I’m sure you’ll find someone much better suited for you, as I have. My new love is easy and breezy. She’s a hot blond called Lyin Sackocrap. We’re really happy and I wish only the same for you.
Love you. Mean it.
I have never had such a dramatic betrayal end a relationship. I’ve had a bit of a wrestle keeping my head and heart out of the quicksand. But, I came up with an excellent "lazy” solution: I have completely re-contextualized our relationship. I get to say what this relationship was and is for me, so I declared that it was just a really great love affair. It wasn’t meant to be anything more than that. We had great fun times, lots of travel, adventures, great sex, and delicious times. It was a success for what it was. No more. No less.
The best news: it’s none of my business if he is in dire need of skin grafts or extensive rhinoplasty. It is only my business that I find myself an excellent portable lie detector to take with me into my next relationship. Maybe a hand-held fire extinguisher wouldn’t be a bad idea either.