My story is pretty long. It’s a long, complicated web of lies that I’ve strung together to make myself appear…more admirable? I don’t know why I make up these stories. I suppose it’s because my life was always so lackluster. When people would ask me about my life, I would get nervous and spout off this wild story. My imagination is extremely active. And I do have a passion for acting. Maybe this is how I get by. There are a few fibs that have stayed with me since high school. I was actually depressed when I was younger, that I knew was real. I refrained from eating, not because I wanted to be skinny, but because I didn’t really have an appetite. But I told people I was bulimic. I’m even really sure why. I think I wanted to blame my depression on something. Or I wanted someone to cry with, but no one would help me if I didn’t have a reason for being sad.

I got older and moved to college. I met a guy with whom I am still with. We’ve been together about 2 years now. And he’s fantastic. I fib every now and then. Only to keep up with the previous stories I’ve told. I did come up with this story as an excuse to move back with my mother for a few months. I told my colleagues and boyfriend that my mother was arrested. Even went so far as to come up with fake charges, a fake trial, a fake deposition on my part, and a fake sentence. I have a problem. I keep telling all of these stories as if they will help make my life better. When now, I’m keeping up with what I told to who and why.

What is true in my life right now? My boyfriend. He has been my rock. But we’re both very s***** people. Too s***** to be with only one person. We’ve discussed having an open relationship, but our friends found out and talked us out of it. We were never really turned off to the idea of an open relationship. We were just tired of them lecturing us. We’ve discussed it again recently but I don’t think anything came of it.

Everything was mostly fine until a couple of weeks ago. I volunteer at this seasonal business every year. And this year, I’ve had my eye on another volunteer. He’s much older (17 year old difference), an ex-biker, ex-junkie, punk rock drummer guy. But he’s got his life together. He’s been completely clean and sober for five years. He’s 37 and ripped. Older men are automatically hot to me. I slowly started flirting with him. Prolonged eye contact. Casual greetings. A few hugs. I thought he liked me, too, but I wasn’t quite sure if I was just feeling arrogant. We started talking as friends. And he was simply amazing. He had an equally fucked up sense of humor. We just hung out and listened to old acid rock from the late 60s. He watched me get high on his couch. We watched movies and had lunch. We became pretty close.

My boyfriend knew I was hanging out with him. He didn’t really mind. He knew no one would ever take me from him. And it’s true. I love my boyfriend with all of my heart. But I have more love to give. It wasn’t until the appreciation banquet for the volunteers. I’ve been developing a drinking problem the past few months. I brought a flask of tequila and was drinking during the banquet. My friend stood next to me the whole night. We cut up. I got a few awards. He got a few awards. I kept drinking. After the banquet, most of everyone went to the owner’s house to party. I was too drunk so my friend stayed with me in the bed of my truck while I sobered up. I smoked a joint. We just laid down, got fucked up, and stared at the sky. We talked for hours when he asked if I wanted to get out of the cold. He drove me to his apartment and we listened to some records. Somehow I wound up sitting in his lap. I rested my head on his shoulder and he kissed me. His cologne filled my nostrils. And I proceeded to have the most passionate night in years. He was everything I had imagined. It was incredible. I didn’t want to leave. But after four hours, I needed to head home. And then I remembered, my boyfriend and I never really discussed the open relationship thing. And I don’t really plan to. My boyfriend is going through his own s*** right now. He’s been possessive, overly affectionate. I feel bad because I do love him and I want him to be happy. But I’m so bored. I’m only 20 and I feel like all I will ever do is stare at my television, listen to my roommates talk about video games and football all day. I want to be on stage. I want to feel something again.

I see my “friend” every three days or so. We have crazy, intense s** and watch horror movies. We listen to old music and talk about crazy s***. My boyfriend has no idea. I live my boring life until the evenings when I see my friend.

I told my friend that my boyfriend knows about us. I told him that I am in an open relationship. And that my boyfriend brings home people all of the time. I’m stuck in a messy situation. And I don’t think another fib can fix it this time.