When we really get down to it, I don’t know all that much about who you really are. When you take into account the relatively limited time we spend together, the bulk of what I’ve got to go on is what you tell me. Obvious lies aside (yeah, it doesn’t matter how often or elaborately you crack that whip, I’m not going to believe that you’re a lion tamer. Especially when I know you work in an urban town centre office. I’m simply not buying it), there’s no reason for me not to take much of what you say at face value.
So when you brag about being incredibly productive and hard working, I’ve got no evidence to contradict your statements. You know, just like Nino Rota, the Italian film score composer with many prolific credits to his name including Shakespeare productions by the likes of Zeferelli, ballets and much else besides (someone I absolutely definitely didn’t have to look up I’ll have you know).
Or perhaps you haven’t done an especially cumbersome amount of homework and plucked the name of the first Italian out of the wriggling nest of thoughts held within your own brain. While we stood together chatting at the bar you wanted to have me understand that you’re some sort of lothario whose prowess in bed has had no rival since the days of Cassanova. However, you also wished to appear learned and well read which is why you chose not to go with the more obvious swarthy historical reference.
It’s fine, go ahead with whatever tales you wish to spin. Such behaviour isn’t exactly going to harm anyone. Besides you, that is. If you’re so very desperate for people to think that you’re something other than what you are what does that say about your own self worth? Do you actually hold yourself in such low esteem that you need to scrabble around desperately in the dark for some figmented titbit? Then I feel sorry for you. Now, you’ll have to excuse me, I’m off for an awards luncheon with the Queen of Sheba.
Song choices courtesy of: Garfunkel and Oates, Thomas Newman and Jay Gruska & J. Peter Robinson