Lie to me, baby. Laugh at me, pretend that you are hearing this for the first time. I know who I am in my head, but I wonder who you know me as, in yours. This is the noblest lie– we put each other through elaborate rituals to convince ourselves of who we are. We lie to each other because we love each other. Those flowers aren’t physics; there’s no law that says what it means when I bring them to you. But you and I both know that I do it because I love you. The flowers are a lie; the flowers are fake. I lie because I love you.
Once Upon A Time
Once upon a time a man worked under an overbearing boss. The boss comes day by day demanding this and that. “Change the colors, too gauche!” “now don’t you think that trope is tired? Get it out!”. And every time the man responds, “Yes.” “It’s gone” “You’ll never see it again”. Then every day when the boss leaves the room, the man throws his notes in the trash and carries on. The colors stay the some, the tropes hit right on the head. And when the work is finished, and it’s a tremendous success, the two shake hands with genuine respect and go their separate ways.
They work that way because they love each other. The boss walks away feeling like a Manager. The man walks with the scarcest ingredient of good art: the feeling that he is breaking the rules and getting away with it. They lie to each other to reassure themselves of their respective roles. And then finally, with the chattering parts of their minds satisfied, the two can begin the process of really working.
A Philosopher King
A Philosopher King time travels to 2023 to diagnose our present ills. “What”, he ponders, “is the point of a relationship in 2023? What is the point of a friendship?” He writes down his findings:
“… In the past things were scarce. But the resources are figured out. You have street food with more nutrients than a peasant would eat all week. There’s no need for division of labor, no need to do it to survive. So what’s the point? It’s not pragmatic! Keep a couple acquaintances for chit chat, some one night stands to keep yourself sane– it’s far more efficient. What’s the point?“
…
What’s the point, Philosopher King? What’s the point of it? You’re missing one crucial thing: I want to be lied to. Humans aren’t rational, and meaning isn’t interchangeable. Sex isn’t sex with that voice on top of your head, chatting off. Everybody wants a threesome of bodies, nobody wants a threesome of minds.
There’s a little voice inside your head that acts as a little simulator. You can’t make it go away on your own. It chatters on all day, “What do people think?” “Do I seem boring right now?” “DO I seem boring?”
You can quiet that voice for me. That’s why I need you to lie to me; that’s why I lie to you. It’s not really me that you lie to– not me, me. It’s that voice in my head that angers and envies and grabs. Lie to him, baby. Lie to me.
Lie to me because you love me.