A Lie Told Often Becomes the Truth

A beautiful woman. All alone at the bar. And without a drink. Long tan legs. Long blonde hair. Short dress. She’s just asking for someone to come over.

I walk over nonchalantly and sit on the stool next to her.

I turn to her.

“How much does a polar bear weigh?”

She looked at me. Puzzled as to why I’d ask her that question.

“Um, a lot.” She replied.

“Enough to break the ice.” I know corny right, but it works.

She giggled.

“I’m Noah.” Lie. But it works to . It sometimes reminds girls of the heartthrob they all love from The Notebook.

“Hi Noah.” She smiled “I’m Erin.”

“Well Erin. I noticed you were sitting here all alone and I thought maybe I’d get you a drink.”

She smiled. “I’d like that.”

From there it all went up. From the taxi. To her apartment. To her bedroom. To me leaving at 3 am.

It was routine.

Every night I’d go out. A different name. A different outfit. A different place. A different person.

My name is Joe. The most common, overused and boring names. I’m a twenty-two year old salesman at a local electronic store. I live in an apartment meant for two by myself. I just haven’t found that other person to share it with yet.

I hate my life, so why not lie.

This is my story. Of my ups and downs. And the truth behind all my lies.