Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Lies, damn lies, and the lying 'people' who tell them

As you get older, you get somewhat more tolerant of lies and other communicative nonsense. Then something comes along and wallops ya in the gob, and you're instantly reminded of all the waffle you've heard down the years.

Take this one for example, "I like a man with a sense of humour". How many people(men) have heard that said or read it a magazine catering for the more deadly members of our species? And we all know it's nonsense. I mean if the quote was 'I like a man with a big wallet', or with "with a nice car/house/motorbike", you'd believe it. After all, how many dull as ditchwater men have you seen with a attractive young lady on their arm? Security, physical attractiveness in reality score much bigger on the radar, and indeed human genetics have a lot to do with this. So why the lies? Because people like to feel that their choices are their own.

Now, this isn't to say that men don't lie. We do, and quite good we are at it too. However, it's the nature of the lies rather than the extent of it that differs between the genders. Men tend to lie to realise some goal or objective. Women tend to lie, mostly to themselves, more as part of an ongoing process. Where women's lies are longer term, men tend to lie on a short term basis.

That is perhaps one of the reason's men get caught out so easily. The problem is that post realising the goal the lie was intended to achieve that the average male ceases to make any real effort to continue to support it. Without active support the lie collapses in on itself and all hell breaks loose. Some might reasonable compare this with how many men behave towards their offspring.

The alternative is that the lie itself is the goal. A woman will happily continue to dye her hair for years, long after everyone else recognises she is not a real redhead, or that grey is now her predominant colour. This she will do, not because she is trying to convince anyone else that she is redhead, rather because she has convinced herself that she is redhead and the dye process is just something she does once a fortnight.

So, next time you see that geezer with the ponytail, the receding hairline, the midlife crisis, the customised Harlay and the young totty on his arm, just remember he probably isn't getting the laughs because he's the funniest person in the room. Or is he? And which is the bigger liar?

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