Why did I do it? Because I knew you wouldn’t fall in love with me if I didn’t! Now, who’s ready to pretend like my unforgivable behavior never happened? I know I am!
You’re not? Oh, I understand. You’re still reeling from last month when you were left at the altar for your now ex-best-friend and a video of it went viral on Twitter. If I were you, I’d still be licking those cliché and socially-relevant wounds, too. Even so, you must admit I’d be crazy not to quickly set in motion an intricate plan to win your heart specifically by bullshitting you.
Remember how we met at your father’s charity gala when I snuck in with a fake name to get drunk and try to sleep with any willing woman? Then I saw you and it was love at first deception. Our whirlwind romance quickly took off thanks to the glue of all sound unions: dishonesty. That’s why I think you being bogged down by my tall tales is—with respect—heartless.
You are the most beautiful, rich, intelligent, rich, sophisticated, and wealthy woman I’ve ever arranged to seduce. And what we have is true love, as long as it doesn’t come with a prenup. So, of course, I refuse to atone for the ‘crime’ of manipulating you to fall for me via an elaborate web of calculated deceits. I could never hurt you like that.
All of your gal pals, your one gay male friend, and your affluent, Caucasian, slightly-right-wing-in-a-problematically-endearing-way family from New England—minus your creepy brother—just adore the fake me. After all, my bogus identity was painstakingly fabricated to be perfect for any straight white woman with a similarly privileged background to yours. Does the phrase it’s the thought that counts mean nothing to you?
In a private, cathartic conversation, you recently revealed to your estranged mother that your unhappiness stems from not being in love, with the implication that marrying literally any man will solve all of your problems (thank you cultural conditioning!). If you can’t recall, I tapped your iPhone and will happily send you the recording because it is a dynamite argument for why you should go against every fiber of your being saying no and pledge yourself to me, forever.
Let me confess. My name is not Ryan Sterling, I don’t own a three-legged rescue Ragdoll named Cat Blanchett, I didn’t create a tech startup that teaches ex-cons how to produce baking videos for Instagram, and I wasn’t raised by two riotous lesbian mothers who smoke weed and are really good at Mario Kart.
I lied because I was scared… that your freak brother would’ve abused his powers as a detective to discover I was playing you like a sap. Luckily, you told him to lay off because you thought he was being paranoid, which also makes you complicit, and is why we’re such a great team!
Can’t you see? The forces of nature want us to be together forever until we die or I get bored, and we’re agreeing that the definition for forces of nature means things I deliberately orchestrated.
And to think, it almost didn’t happen. If your hotter, younger sister hadn’t turned me down at the party, I never would’ve called an audible and settled on you. Isn’t fate romantic?
You claim I can no longer be trusted, but like, why though? What would a dishonest person do were they in my stolen shoes? They certainly wouldn’t be acknowledging all of their lies like I just did, which makes me the good guy. Yes, I’m a habitual fibber, but when I get caught, at least I’m honest.
Any other two-faced nincompoop would probably make an impassioned speech asking for forgiveness, wherein they would explain how their original intentions were impure but their subsequent actions were driven by the real feelings they developed for you, and that they made the biggest mistake of their life. It would conclude with a tearful recitation full of callbacks describing what they love about you, capped off by a final, heart-wrenching apology, completely absolving them of their conscious sins. If you don’t mind, I’ll just skip to the last part.
I’m so sorry you found out!
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