Oh my God, It Even has a Watermark

Contrary to popular belief, the many identities that I have assumed in my travels are not necessitated by my immigration status. Rather, they are the product of the bored mind of an English major who enjoys the craft of fiction and the audience of sophisticated yet gullible women.

And so I find myself at bars, creating different personas for myself. I have been an astronaut, the owner of several Argentinian wineries, a producer looking to cast local unknowns in the TV version of The Town, the Spanish Ambassador's son, the pilot for the Boston Red Sox charter plane, deputy mayor, and an escapist a la Houdini. This last one is quickly becoming my favorite because the path from there to handcuffs is a short and easy one.

Oh, don't look at me that way. Yes, they are lies. Yes, I'm misleading impressionable women. Yes, maybe I'm not a very good person.

But come on. It's fun.

No, but really. Look. When you go to crowded bars, a lot of people are looking to just have fun that night. These are not places to find soulmates. Most people understand this transaction.

So I ask you, is it that bad to spice things up a bit?

What you call "lies" I like to call "short stories." Let's use an example. I'm going to tell you two stories and you tell me which one you'd rather listen to.

Story 1: I am a lawyer. Right now I'm not working, so I spend most days at home. But when I do work, I'll get to look for inconsistencies in 400-page contracts. What? Do we ever go to trial? Oh, you make me laugh.

or

Story 2: Oh, I'm not actually from here. I'm from down in Georgia. Yeah, my family owns a ranch there and I help run it. We breed racehorses there. Yes, to compete in races and everything. We're actually really excited. We just had a new foal and he's magnificent. He was born and he was already 17 hands tall. Stride is seven and a half feet. He's a beast. With the right feeding and training, we really might have a shot at a future Derby contender. And you know the best part? Our ranch's conceit is that we name our horses after literary characters. Like "Moby Dick," or "Othello," or "Boo Radley." But we've been saving one name for our best horse, for the one we think really has a shot at being a champion. And we gave it to this one. We're that sure he's going to be the best. Oh, what name? It's awesome. The best. Are you ready for this? (Pause) "The Great Gatsby."

BOOM.

Isn't Story 2 just a million times better? When you're out at a bar, wouldn't you much rather listen to that than to the sad, boring truth?

So I'm providing a public service here. And, despite what you might think, most women tend to believe me. My theory is that yes, everyone tells one or two lies when they're courting. But those are easy to catch.

The difference here is that these personas are a complete fiction. They are entire backstories -- lives in brief. And since only psychos would create an alternate identity, nobody is on their guard. A little self-assuredness and enough details, and there's no reason for them not to believe you.

And yet you occasionally frequently get the girl who doesn't believe that the douchebag in a suit standing in front of her is actually an astronaut angling to be on the first mission to Mars. So what do we do about them? How do we convince them?

You know how, if it's on paper, it must be true?

Ta-da!

Thank you, AlterEgo. Thank you very, very much.