Pants on Fire

Recently, I have come across a hell of a lot of lies shooting out of the mouths of men in my acquaintance.

My sister, the Redhead, has recently split with her boyfriend after he lied about cheating on her. This came shortly before she found concrete proof in the Sent box of his Facebook account. Busted good and proper and yet still denying it.

He’s a m so we would expect his to tell the odd porky.

More worryingly is the lies that have been told by gents who I consider to be fine, upstanding specimens; the kind of bloke who would offer you a chair in a crowded pub, the kind who would never cheat on their girlfriends.

Case # 1: My good friend, Mr A, recently went on a lads holiday to Ibiza. His lover, Miss W, who is the coolest girlfriend in the world, was fine with him gallivanting off to the Balearics for a few days. When he came back, he had several photos of him, his mates and new friends they had made – male and female. Still, Miss W wasn’t bothered; she knows that you do meet new people on holiday.

A few weeks later though, the photos mysteriously disappeared from Mr A’s Facebook account. When Miss W, surprised, questioned him about this, he said that his other travelling companion, Mr H, hadn’t wanted his girlfriend to see them, innocent though they were. (Are you keepomg up at the back?) Miss W later discovered that the photographs hadn’t actually been deleted from Mr H’s account though.

And now, she lost a smidgen of her cool.

Shortly after this, he received a phone call from someone named Eden. When Miss W asked who Eden was, he said it was the name of a guy he had met in Eden in Ibiza whose name he couldn’t remember, hence he was stored in his phone under the name of the club where they first met.

Miss W then found out that Eden was actually the name of one of the girls in the photographs. She confronted Mr A who assured her that nothing had gone on with Eden but that he didn’t want Miss W getting suspicious and jealous and he obviously thought the best way to do that was to lie through his teeth.

Idiot. He made himself look even more guilty than he was (which, I believe, is not at all).

Case # 2: Mr P’s football team is sponsored by a local strip club (a fact that I’m simply thrilled by, as you can imagine). His fellow footballing friend, Mr K, told his fiancée that the ladies actually only get naked in the back rooms for men who pay extra.

This is obviously is not true.

Shortly after this, his fiancée announces that she and her girlfriends are going to stop by the strip club on their Christmas do for a bit of a giggle. She will obviously see the pole in the middle of the room. And the semi-clad bird twisting herself around it. And Mr K will be in the shit.

Bet he’s looking forward to that date like a hole in the head.

This entry was posted in Comrades, Love 'n' Stuff, Miss Ranty Pants, The Hairier Sex (usually). Bookmark the permalink.

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