Tell Me Lies

by Carola Lovering

If you assess the worth of your relationship solely in terms of your feelings it is likely to fail,

I know about guilt, and it doesn’t apply to me—I don’t carry the burden of it. It actually works to my advantage, most of the time.

the way he operated, running a fine-tooth comb through the tangled mess of my feelings and his actions and claims. I understood that each of his choices was driven by an objective or a desire. His moves were calculated, slightly impetuous but always weighed against the consequences.

Even if it was just some fake feeling, I still wanted to know how “I love you” could be more than just spoken words to someone whose company you enjoyed a decent amount.

People who are harder to access pose a challenge, and the challenge makes them easier to love. By not always yielding answers but deliberately hinting at them, I challenged Alice’s score with herself, her own assessments and convictions. I had driven her to love me;

motivations were consistent with sociopathic and narcissistic behaviors.

A sociopath is often well-liked because of his or her charm and high charisma, but he or she does not usually care about other people.

Males are three times more likely to be sociopaths than females.

NARCISSIST—A person with narcissistic personality disorder, a mental disorder in which people have an inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for admiration, and a lack of empathy for others. Behind this mask of ultraconfidence lies a fragile self-esteem that’s vulnerable to the slightest criticism.

Chronic unfaithfulness is a different story. When you lie and cheat consistently, as it seems Stephen does, well, that isn’t human nature. There’s no guilt in that kind of behavior, see? Someone who causes harm to others without guilt—that’s a sociopath in action.”

M

I wished Alice would go out and spend a Sunday with her friends, go to brunch or have some Bloody Marys at the Frying Pan. But all she ever did these days was wait for me, like a faithful dog.

People like Stephen, they don’t change. But isn’t the whole point to believe that people can change? To believe that we can all become better versions of ourselves? Otherwise, what hope is there for anybody?

I studied his face for signs of remorse or guilt. His face was like magic to me, it always had been. The emeralds he had for eyes, the good, even nose, his ample cheeks and soft, rounded chin. But nothing about his expression was regretful or even defensive. Instead he appeared completely impassive, almost bored. I don’t feel guilt. I remembered him saying those words the night we first slept together at my apartment.

M

“I’m sorry if I’m hurting you in some big way.” Hurting you in some big way. You are killing me. You are destroying the fibers of me.

He wanted to hurt me. He lied and lied and he didn’t feel guilt.

He was sadistic at his core. I had always known it. I was so, so stupid for thinking that our shared defiance of goodness was strong enough to equal love. There was always good in love. There had to be. But then maybe there wasn’t, and maybe that was the whole problem with the world.