Loser Magnetism

One of my more candid (and less tactful) friends asked me the other day if I have a liar magnet on my forehead.

Ok, it was a fair question. I do seem to attract my fair share of men who have only a passing acquaintance with the truth.

Why is this? My mother, who has also attracted plenty of liars (hmmm, maybe I can blame it on genetics) calls it the xy chromosome factor - she maintains (lately) that all men are liars. This explanation is sooo tempting, because I can use it to absolve myself of all responsibility and go about my merry way surrounded by a flock of jive turkeys trying to sell me their stories.

A more honest explanation is that everyone, myself included, lies at times. Maybe I just need to learn to sort the good liars from the bad ones. I'm not talking skill level here - I need to separate the harmless liars (your hair looks good like that!) from the harmful ones (I don't know why that woman is emailing me!)

Part of my problem is that I'm cursed and blessed with the ability to find things. Once my suspicions are aroused (and sometimes before) I begin to search for information with the same intensity that my rat terrier displays during a good gopher hunt. And my suspicions, at least, rarely lie.

Sometimes I wish I could embrace a philosophy of blissful ignorance. But there are too many people doing that already. I know I'm not the only person who married a spouse with a secret life - one needs only to surf the personal ads on craigslist to figure that out. Is it better to be alone with the truth or together with an illusion? Clearly I made that decision fairly decisively in Dear Husband's case.

But the original question remains unanswered. Am I a magnet for liars? Or am I just cursed and blessed to discover their lies? Maybe I need to invest in a portable polygraph machine. Or maybe I need to listen more closely to the truth in my head. Perhaps if I let my own truth develop a loud enough voice, it will start to drown out other people's lies.