The Most Complicated Lie You've Told

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In life there are two types of people: those who perform life-altering, insane, inhumane scams with pathological ease, and everybody else. Elizabeth Holmes, founder of the company Theranos—the “disruptive” health technology corporation celebrated for being able to perform diagnostic tests with small amounts of blood, later discovered to be an incredibly elaborate grift—is proudly in the former camp. Let’s not forget that Theranos issued fake medical results to patients for years, all because Holmes somehow bewildered investors and a public audience to believe in her vision. The world needs more skeptics.

However! This week’s Pissing Contest isn’t about Holmes directly, or Theranos, or your healthy cynicism (good job, you). I want to focus on lying—most specifically, the most roundabout, complicated lie you’ve ever told. As always, feel free to get as creative with your interpretation of the prompt, which should be especially easy for you master scammers.

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Before you blow up your own spot, let’s check out last week’s winners. These are your most outrageous one night stand stories:

ButterscotchScotch will namaste but is not-gonna-stay:

The one that gets the most giggles when I tell it is when he finished, started crying, rolled off of me and whispered namaste. Then asked me to cuddle him, then asked what he could make me for breakfast. I pushed him out the door and starfished that bed all night long.

hello,satan is a poop hero:

It was my first Tinder date, and in Europe. I was 29, he was 39. After a long, long night of drinking, weed, cocaine, we finally go to my Airbnb—an extremely tiny studio. The guy passes out immediately. Meanwhile, I can’t sleep because I need to poop. Badly. I knew this would be a very explosive and smelly one. I had never pooped in the close presence of other humans, and I sure as hell was not going to start tonight. I shake the guy and try to wake him up: “hey, can you leave now? I really need to go to the bathroom.” He laughs it off, so I insist again and again and again. He tells me he’ll cover his ears and he’ll never hear anything. At this point I’m very pissed. So pissed I actually head to the bathroom to poop with vengeance. Knowing fully well he was sleeping next the bathroom and the door barely closed, I farted, and pooped, and farted and pooped like there was no tomorrow. I regret nothing!

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GarbageCat got down (and off) with a young Canadian stud, a quality post-divorce move:

This is probably sort of graphic, but whatever.

About a week after I left my husband I was invited to a Kenny Chesney concert by a girlfriend. Not a fan, but I figured why not! It was a group of gals and we got a hotel room right next to the venue. I was in that full-on wild, DGAF mode you’re in after you leave a long, unsatisfying relationship. I was 33 at the time. After the openers and once Kenny Chesney came on my friend and I got bored and went out to the concourse to get a snack. This beautiful boy came up and started chatting with us. I say boy because it turns out he was 21 years old. We chatted a lot; he was Canadian, a former WHL hockey player starting his own business, separated from his friends, and hot as hell. My friend went to go get another drink. While she was gone I asked the hot boy if he wanted to come to my hotel room with me and fuck. He, of course, was down. I sent my friend a text “I’m going to fuck this guy, don’t judge.” As soon as we got into the hotel elevator he pushed me against the wall and started making out with me. We get into the room, he tears my pants off, and starts going down on me. To this day I have no idea how a 21 year old guy was so good at it; they certainly weren’t so adept when I was 21. He was equally as good at fucking. We went at it for about an hour and, after spending 7 years with someone who’s idea of foreplay was squeezing my thigh and honking my boob, it was just what I needed. His body was perfect, he was he actually cared about getting me off, and after we finished he was very sweet and asked me for my phone number. I gave it to him and we texted a few times afterward, but of course nothing came of it - what am I really gonna do with a 21 year old and vice versa?

My friend was PISSED that I went off with the guy so I had to deal with that right after, but it was worth it.

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She was weird will be carved into my tomb’s fling is like every college rom-com ever made, except she never sees the hunk again. In other words, nearly perfect:

The semester I went for study abroad, I ended up living in a house with three Swedish models. Every cliche ensues-they are bitchy, they routinely backstab each other, they’re slobs, none of them are very bright. I am not very attractive and I am very academic-nerdy, and the whole semester unrolls like a terrible reality show.

The plus side of living with them is that they (and by extension me) get invited to a ton of crazy parties. At one of these cool-kid parties near the end of the semester, I spot an absurdly hot guy, and it must have been obvious I was checking him out because my roommates give me an immediate reality check- “That’s X, he’s the hottest guy any of us have seen in real life, and we’ve all tried to get with him and he’s not interested in any of us, so he’s definitely not going to be interested in *you*.”

I sat on that for a while, and then decided “Fuck you, bitches!” and because even plain, shy girls have nights when they’ve Got It Goin’ On, I went right up to him. To this day I have no idea why, but I opened with some reference to the Aeneid (I warned you I’m nerdy), and that guy looks at me like I’m Christmas and his birthday all wrapped up in one package. Turns out he’s double majoring in Latin and Classics and has a serious thing for the epic poets. He looks like a male model and he’s an incredible athlete, so nobody ever expects him to- or pays attention when- he says anything smart or academic. We spend the next couple hours talking/drinking/dancing, after which he more or less throws me over his shoulder and carries me out of the club and back to his apartment. I caught sight of my roommates as we left- standing there open-mouthed, shocked that their ugly roommate is leaving with the Adonis. It was like a scene from a movie and perfect for that alone.

The sex was 100% satisfactory but not epic, and for a number of reasons I snuck out of his apartment before he woke up and didn’t leave my number. I still remind myself about that story whenever I’m feeling particularly unattractive or down on myself!

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Tricky’sDick, you’re the real one:

Fucked a guy in a field who was wearing a fox tail on the last night of a pagan festival in Texas. Spent 30 minutes looking for my $50 bra (seriously, wtf was I doing wearing an expensive bra to a pagan festival?!), only to walk back to camp and find it was wrapped around my leg the whole time. Never saw him again.

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Place those lies in the comments below. Don’t worry, you’re anonymous here.

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About the author

Maria Sherman

this is my day job: senior writer at jezebel