Across The Chair

“I have something to tell you. I’m not 46 years old. I’m 58.”

What?

I took a step back. I had been seeing Emmanuel for a few dates now. In that short span of time, we had fallen in love. I was quietly convinced that he might be the love of my life.

Why no earth did he lie?

“Also,” he added, “I have a 27-year-old son.”

Moments like these make you wonder whether to toss everything out the window or just your ego. If he could lie about something so fundamental, what else could he lie about?

He looked almost relieved after saying it, like someone setting down a heavy bag he’d been carrying for too long. He went on to tell me he’d lied because women disappeared when they learned his real age. That it was easier to fake the numbers than to risk rejection. That he wanted a chance to be known – just not too quickly.

It was hard to stomach, but I listened.

What I heard wasn’t manipulation. It was fear.

Fear of being dismissed before being understood.
Fear that the truth would cost him connection.
Fear that who he was might somehow not be enough.

Emmanuel wasn’t trying to deceive me into loving him. I realise he was trying to make himself lovable.

So I decided to stay. Instead of interrogating his words, I began to watch his actions.

What was true revealed itself slowly. And consistently. His devotion to his dogs. The way he treated service staff with respect. His frugality, not as stinginess, but as care. The way he cared to make sure I was safe, fed, and considered.

After that, thankfully, I didn’t uncover any more lies.

What I learnt was that not all lies are signs of a deceptive person. Some are signs of a frightened one – someone leading with their wounds.

As a therapist, I’ve heard versions of this story many times. People lie about their age, their past relationships, their social lives, their intentions, even why they come to therapy. Lying is rarely out of malice. Lying is often out of shame. And almost always out of fear of loss.

People lie because the truth feels dangerous.
And sometimes what they do, consistently, tells a quieter truth.

And sometimes, if you stay long enough, you learn the difference between someone who lies to hide, and someone who lies because they don’t yet believe they’re enough.