You Can Call Me Honest John

My friends say I am a pathological liar and to some extent I cannot argue with them. I do lie. Everyone does. I started when I learned to talk and never held back because as far as liars go, I consider myself Glinda the Good Witch. I never make stuff up-- I just copy edit every story in my head until by the time the tale is finally repeated at a family dinner or friendly gathering, my presentation is as polished as a presidential address. Just like turning a rock over and over will smooth the edges, I tumble over my days until I have tailored each pause and change in intonation to a tee. This compulsion makes me wildly popular at dinner parties and work gatherings. I like to think.

I have never been caught although my friends might raise an eyebrow at a particularly theatrical rendition of a trip to the grocery store. That is, until last night.

Outfitted in our party gear and wearing so much mascara would could barely lift our eyelids, we bellied up to the bar at our favorite Friday night haunt. The trick is to get your beers early, before the place gets really jammed, and set up shop at the corner of the bar by the band. We were scoping out the crowd and had barely gotten our drinks when, what would soon become my kryptonite, stumbled into our midst.

He was loud and had a thick Boston accent and introduced himself by asking, "How much does a polar bear weigh? Enough to break the ice! I'm Ryan, Ryan, Ryan."

I vomited into my mouth. Unperturbed by our blank expressions he began to quiz us individually on our hometown, hobbies and profession and I watched my friends effortlessly answer with complete bull shit. Alyssa, Jackie and Rachel from Brookline became Kaitlyn, Ashley and Sarah from Allston. They talked about their jobs at their research labs, and even came up with plausible names for their labs and the fellowships they had received. Which is even more admirable considering only one of them was even a science major in college. Bolstered by their success, I felt prepared when the attention was directed at me and Ryan asked my name.

"Ummmmmm..." Silence ensued and I could think of nothing. Not my name, not my mother's name, I could have said freaking Mary Magdalen for crying out loud, this total idiot would have bought it in a second. Instead I said, "I think I have to go to the bathroom?" I am sure even the band stopped playing at that moment as I turned and slowly made my way to the bathroom, my face scarlet and my friends' howls of laughter clearly audible behind me.

I went home and polished my Good Witch crown.