Lies that we all tell ourselves.

Nobody likes a liar, but when we lie to ourselves it’s different because we usually lie to ourselves to make ourselves feel better. Telling those little lies to ourselves is our way of protecting and comforting ourselves. I’m sure when David Cameron saw all those billboards of himself he told himself ”That isn’t what people really think”. Whilst me may not have people writing comments on our facebook photos saying ”Fuck off back to Eton!”. We do face our own obstacles in life which require us telling little lies to ourselves:

1) I’m pretty sure my drink was spiked.


You’ve woken up in bed the morning after, a good portion of the night is missing (i.e the beginning, middle and the end) and your friend is texting you questions such as ”What happened last night?”. Anybody who has been on a night out will have experienced this at least one in their drinking career, and the natural response is ”I was spiked”. I had this on one of my first nights out as an eighteen year old, and I was convinced that at some point during the double vodkas and mixers, quadvods and jaegerbombs that I had been spiked. How could I not have been? There was no other explanation for the fact I lay in bed with my curtains closed until late afternoon.

2) I’ll work harder next year.

''Let's invite Zoe out six times in three weeks''

”Let’s invite Zoe out six times in three weeks”

This has been what I’ve been telling myself all summer, because I got a good grade in second year and with ONE year left I really want to smash it and go out on a high. However, as soon as September arrived the invites for nights out started rolling in. Initially, I was just planning out on going out on the first Friday back, and then came the invite for a staff party ”Hmm, ok. Looks like I’ll be going out on the Sunday as well. Good job I have Mondays off.”, Then the freshers ball line up was revealed ”It’s a Saturday! I can go out then!”, Then was an invite out on the Tuesday ”Ok, is there a conspiracy to see me fail third year?”. Then I remembered about DBE the week after ”I’m so fucked for third year”.

Of course, this is simply going to be a case of changing my address to the library and refusing to emerge for food or fresh air until those dates arrive, but I’m pretty sure all of us have this plan of being a model student until we get back and suddenly daytime tv and cleaning the house take priority over everything related to studying.

3) My kids will be different.

Enough to put me off reproducing.

Enough to put me off reproducing.

I don’t spend a lot of time with children, and most of my experiences with children involve the ones I see out in public with their Mum. Unfortunately, the vast majority of these children behave like the spawn of Satan and the vast majority of the Mothers look like they are one tantrum away from being admitted to The Priory. Now, I know it’s not the Mother’s or child’s fault, but a lot of them do put me off procreating entirely, and I can’t be the only one to have experienced this feeling. I think we’ve all told ourselves ”My kids will be different”, because if we didn’t then the world population would start dying out immediately.

4) I will not use Wikipedia for this essay

Wikiepedia: the answer to all of life's problems.

Wikiepedia: the answer to all of life’s problems.

Ok, correction. I have referenced Wikipedia in an essay(yet), but I have often gone on wikipedia for some much needed light which I use to shed on a book I’ve been reading. For example, I’m currently reading a book called ”The Naked Lunch: the restored text” and the word baffled does not cover how I feel when reading it. I got to page 100 and then decided it was a job for wikipedia, and you can imagine my displeasure when I read ”Burroughs (the author) stated that the chapters are intended to be read in any order”. Part of me was relieved that I wasn’t an idiot and that the book was that confusing, and then another part of me started panicking because I realised that’s one book on the module I can’t write an essay on, and if the rest of the books are like it then I’m completely doomed.

5) I will not have a dessert

Because you're already gone to town on the appetizer, main and alcohol.

Because you’re already gone to town on the appetizer, main and alcohol.

So I went to dinner with a friend recently and it was surprisingly healthy for a pub; there wasn’t a hot pot in sight but tuna steaks and chicken instead. Of course, like any pub it had the option of fries with every single main and my friend said ”I’m not having fries, I’m going to stop eating crap”, but I don’t think alcohol was included in the term ”crap” for my friend who does twice a weekbenders (Quote from her: I spend most of my time hungover or drunk”). However, as soon as she said that she was wistfully fingering the dessert menu (Not that type of fingering, stay with me here) and looking at the desserts before the main had arrived.

It is like the law of dining out, even if it is a dingy pub, that you have to have dessert. Most of the time you’ve already gone to town on the appetisers, alcohol and main so when it comes to refusing a dessert it’s like Miley Cyrus going to a convent after rubbing that rubber glover between her crotch, what’s the point?


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