7 Strange Joys of Pretending to Ourselves

Posted Saturday at 01:30 AM4 days

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We human beings are magicians of delusion, artisans of self-deception, and connoisseurs of personal fairy tales. We do not merely lie to others; we build elaborate stage sets of falsehood within ourselves and then applaud the performance as though it were Shakespearean.

What follows is our little numbered carnival of self-trickery, each exhibit more ridiculous than the last, yet all curiously familiar.

1. Pretending Friendship Is Profound.

We tell ourselves that simply being in the company of others means we are weaving golden threads of lifelong camaraderie. In reality, sometimes we are just drinking tepid wine in someone’s kitchen and politely asking if they are “having fun.” We call this profound connection what is more accurately a mutual agreement not to flee the room. But in our heads, we declare, “These are my eternal companions,” as though a slightly awkward evening were the cement of human history.

The fear of loneliness can make even the most beastly company seem like a friend in unfair weather.

2. Pretending Our Choices Were Strategic.

We like to pretend our failures of opportunity were acts of supreme wisdom. Did we skip university? Ah, yes, it was not because tuition was terrifying or grades uninspiring, but because we cleverly calculated that paying thousands of dollars merely to acquire friends was a poor return on investment. We make it sound like Warren Buffett whispered this into our ears rather than us just not wanting the debt.

Rivising history in hindsight to masquerade as a master plan is a fantastic way to avoid learning from our mistakes.

We convince ourselves we dodged a bullet when, in fact, we never stepped into the firing range.

3. Pretending we are beyond learning.

We adore the lie that we already know what experts teach. Why pay someone to teach movement when we already learned to walk at two years old? Clearly, falling over as a toddler equips us with lifelong mastery of biomechanics. The lie comforts us because it lets us reject vulnerability, ignore humility, and keep money in our pockets.

We tell ourselves we are sophisticated autodidacts when we are, in fact, refusing to try something new because the thought of stumbling again terrifies us.

4. Pretending that vice belongs only to others or that we are noble despite never having the opportunity.

We scoff at the sins of others, insisting we are too pure, too upright, too uniquely sensible. When tales of orgiastic chaos or questionable intimacy appear, we declare with moral clarity that such behavior is “creepy and disgusting.” We cast ourselves as paragons of restraint, as if the universe should give us a medal for not being strapped into a harness in a stranger’s basement. We lie by pretending our tastes are not merely personal preferences but universal truths carved into tablets of stone.

We scoff at the opportunistic indiscretions of others from a moral high ground when it is that our capabilities or circumstances have shielded us from physically dominating our fellows or the folly of philandering.

Not cheating on your spouse or bullying your employees comes from a different place if nobody else wants to sleep with you or you’ve never been a manager.

5. Pretending we are talented beyond criticism.

When someone offers feedback, we armor ourselves with the lie of inviolable artistry. We sneer, “What do you even know about music? You press buttons.” In this grand delusion, we become prophets of creativity misunderstood by the dull masses. This lie is delicious because it absolves us of ever considering whether critique has merit. We are geniuses, and if the audience fails to appreciate us, they are clearly uncultured swine.

A stoic wall fortified against opportunities for improvement guards a treasure of diminishing value.

6. Pretending singleness is enlightenment.

We like to insist that our single life is a utopian dream. “I am so much happier on my own,” we declare while eating cold noodles at midnight. We convince ourselves that the movies are more enjoyable solo, that empty closet space is a triumph of independence, and that echoing silence is peace rather than loneliness. This lie comforts us by painting solitude not as something endured but as a badge of evolved superiority. We lie by crowning our isolation with laurels.

Enjoying solitude is one matter; an elaborate shroud of justifications for a hollow existence driven by a fear of connection is entirely another.

7. Pretending consumerism equals emotional growth.

We also enjoy the illusion that buying products can sculpt our emotional intelligence. A scented candle, a cleverly branded journal, or a subscription box of wisdom becomes a substitute for the long, grueling work of self-reflection.

We insist we are developing our inner worlds, while in truth, we are curating a collection of coffee table ornaments.

The lie thrives because it flatters us with progress without requiring the unpleasantness of actual change.

These are the marvelous fictions we spin for ourselves. We do not only deceive; we decorate the deception, install mood lighting, and charge admission. What unites all these lies is the intoxicating hope that if we keep repeating them long enough, they might transform into truth.

Yet beneath the glitter is the persistent hum of reality, waiting with dry patience for us to stop congratulating ourselves and actually look it in the eye.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.