Who exactly are you convincing? It's not ME!

I return to this particular topic because it fascinates me. The absolutely fantastic stories people tell about their lives, families, children, and themselves continue to amaze me. Not only is nobody perfect, but neither is life, in general. Yet, time and again, I am regaled with stories of unheard of excellence. Much like the exaggerated FB stati, retouched Instagram photo, or Twitter BS, this announcement can be via text, phone, or even face-to-face. At least when it comes via text, you can laugh heartily, scream your disbelief out loud, and make all the faces you want. And trust me, I do. With great abandon.  On the phone, you must maintain at least some composure while listening to the long line of bullshit. That is far more difficult to do, and only for the practiced listener. Unless you are very adept at hitting the mute button, going between on and off, you have to know how to stifle your laughter, keep your shouts of "bullshit" in your head, and basically be able to feign interest and belief...believably. In person, good luck to you. I've become award-winning in my performances, but again, this isn't possible for everyone.  Try not to get into this situation if at all possible.

Do tell me all about your perfect marriage.  I love this topic in particular. Remind me again how wives are supposed to train their husbands.  It's our job to make them socially acceptable, semi-intelligent human beings, right? And you, the expert, have done a fine job of it. He does your bidding without complaint, puts the toilet lid down, washes dishes, and really listens to you when you whine about your day. Right. And I am the Lord your God, you shall have no other gods but me. The truly funny part, and you don't even get it, is that according to you, your husband was basically a giant goober until he met you.  So, then, you knowingly married a total douchebag? To me, that makes you the fucktard. You and nobody else can completely change a person, I don't care how great you think you are, or how much faith you have in your incredible abilities. Marriage is compromise, not total transformation. You can't pimp this ride.

While we are still chatting, you may as well regale me with a story or two about your awesome kid. Refresh my memory, I am getting old, this child was sitting up at 3 months and potty trained at 18 months, correct? Ah yes, the toddler prodigy. What is she doing now, logic design? Did her thesis on bioengineering go well? Perhaps you've forgotten that I, too, am a parent? Allow me to remind you. My baby is 17 and I've been there already. Lest you think I can't remember that far back,  for me, five days per week are spent with 3-5 year olds. I'm pretty fresh in that respect.  Yet, with all that in place, you still think I am going to believe you when you tell me about how everyone loves your child and how perfectly behaved they are in every situation. As I shake my head to clear away the giant load of crap you've attempted to fill it with, I must ask you a question.  Are you with your child all day long? If your spawn is school-age, they are out of your sight for at least 7 hours a day. Those are the 7 hours you haven't a clue about, yet you claim they are angelic. Unless they are rowdy and annoy the shit out of the teachers, chances are, you won't hear about it during a routine conference.  But the children they are mean to know all about it.  Or if they are even older than that, they are likely doing things that would make your head explode. Innocent and sweet, my ass.
Your life is the stuff that dreams are made of, or so you'd have us all believe. Parties and vacations, just another weekend for you. While the rest of us old folks are getting shit done, running errands, doing laundry, you are packing a bag to head off to your next resort destination. Or maybe your oh-so-perfect partner has come up with yet another surprise for you. Yeah, I totally believe that. Wipe the crumbs off your sweatpants, put the remote down, and own up to the fact that you are human like the rest of us, and as such, you have the same amount of responsibilities we do. Nobody has that much free time, disposable cash, and clear-headedNESS to be able to be as footloose and fancy free as you claim. It's totally cool to rent a Redbox movie and curl up on the couch under a blanket in sweats on the weekend. Most of us need down time to recharge our batteries. The whirlwind you say is your life is a total fucking pantload. Who does your grocery shopping, laundry, vacuuming?

Before you tell another story to a friend or relative, ask yourself if it's true or just what you wish to be true?  Most often, you are being led by the feeling that most 3 year olds have. If I see it, I like it, I want it, it must be mine. Doesn't work that way for you, folks in your forties! Telling the truth, owning your flaws, telling it like it is...are all necessary if you want to keep your friends.  Eventually, we will all know you are full of shit, and we will avoid you like the fucking plague. That's the harsh reality.  Nobody wants to hear only sunshine and rainbows.  We are all trudging through this thing called life, and we all have our struggles. It would be nice to hear that these struggles are shared, not exclusive to just me. Not to mention, when you put lace, ribbons, and bows on all your stories, you piss people off. Tell me your kid has a mouth like a truck driving sailor. Admit that your husband forgets to wipe the toilet seat off after he sprays it. Announce the vast amounts of popcorn you plan to eat this weekend while watching a Jersey Shore-a-thon under a Snuggie. This kind of shit makes me not only want to be your friend, but I'd publicly high five you for your honesty.  Are you friggin kidding me right now???