Honest to a fault.   So, I’ve been told.    Ok.  We all lie.  But a liar I am not.  People tell me they enjoy my writing.  I’m not so sure they enjoy my actual writing.   It’s more the shock value in its content.  Wish I was creative and could fabricate these fabulous stories.  But I can’t.   I just live my life.  The mundane and the craziness.  And with a crazy life in this divorce world in this tiny town comes some really complicated situations.  And, I’m just sassy enough to share the never ending messes that I tend to get myself into.

Boundaries are constantly crossed.  And, thus, questionable choices are made.  In my dating life, anyhow.

After constant flirting with a dad in the area (not a good idea, btw), we finally went out.  Turns out he was a lot of fun.  A lot.  And, when he tells me he and his girlfriend are over, I believe him.  Lie #1.  Of many.  Tells me he is hooked on me.  That he’s never met a woman like me.  Blah Blah Blah.  Oh the lies.  Shocker.  Do men really lie?  I’ve never encountered that before in Triple D (Dallas Dating Drama).

At 3am his phone won’t stop.  The calls.  The texts.  10 phone calls in 3 minutes.  Clearly, someone is trying to reach him.  He ignores.  Could that be a red flag?  Of course, it is.  It’s his “ex” girlfriend.  (according to him–the LIAR).

So, at 9 am, my cell goes off.  It’s my neighbor.  “Wanda, someone tried to break into our house last night.  Be careful.”  Damn.  I hate that.  Scary, as I’m home alone sometimes when the kids are at their dad’s.

Wishful thinking that it was just a burglar.

She goes on to tell me that the crazy woman kept yelling some guy’s name (it just happens to be the same name as the guy with me–coincidence?  Probably not).  “I know you’re in there.”  My neighbor told her to get the f**k off of her property before she called the police.  She starts to get in her Range Rover when my neighbor won’t open the door.  Huh?  Did you say Range Rover?  How many burglars drive a new Range Rover?  Yep.  Another red flag.

What time did all this happen, I ask.

You guessed it.

The same time his phone went off.  I sent a pic of her to my neighbor and BINGO!  It was her!  Shocking!  Evidently, she looked into his Uber account and found out where he was.  Except she went to my neighbor’s house and not mine.  CRAZY?  Yes.  A psychotic moment?  Yes.  I CANNOT MAKE THIS UP.  My neighbor said there was a man in the car.  Ummm?  A wingman?  Did she plan on using him to teach him a lesson?  Or me?  Aren’t they broken up?  Yea right.  What have I gotten myself into this time?

After asking some of my friends (we have nearly 50 mutual friends on Facebook–gotta love good ole Facebook), it turns out he had been dating her on and off again for nearly a year.  According to those mutual friends.  Not according to him.

I swear.  I can’t win.  Am I going to have to start doing FBI background checks on every guy I have a drink with?

What makes us lie?  What makes us go crazy and go hunt down the man that makes us so crazy?  Trust me.  I know.  I did the same thing to the doctor.  Except, I knew where his house was as I walked in on him in bed with another woman.  And, yes, that was an utter disaster.  My mind was NOT in the right place.  Sadly, neither was hers.  I actually felt sorry for her.

Needless to say, my neighbor was NOT happy when I told her who it was.  She sent her a terse warning via Facebook messenger.  In all her mental anguish over her lover/boyfriend/ex/whatever he was, she went crazy and, sadly,  AT THE WRONG HOUSE.  Worse part was she woke up my neighbor’s grandbaby.  That was utter chaos.

If you plan on stalking the liar you are dating, make damn sure you have the right house.

Details, I suppose.

He, of course, went on to lie to me.  To her.  To himself.

Can’t anyone just be honest?  His lies don’t really bother me.  I’m used to men lying to me.  I’m not emotionally attached to him.  I’m just having fun.  Two adults having consensual sex is fine with me.  But for her?  I’m guessing his honesty or lack of it would surely have made a difference.

Again, own your story.  Whatever it is.

Photo by Wout J. Reinders

Thank you for the use of stock photos.

 

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