I have heard many people say how much they hate it when people are fake. Personally, I don't know what I would do without that cultural blessing. I mean really, if everybody was "real" all the time, I don't think I'd ever go out in public. If the people who couldn't stand me just told me as much flat-out? I'd be devastated.
No, please, give me the fake smile, the fake laugh, the abbreviated discussions, and I'll take the hint and pretend right along with you. We'll both know it's all code for "I don't like you," and we'll move on without the scars of an honest exchange.
It's the fake that makes reality bearable. Politeness is just a public acknowledgment that being real doesn't work toward our mutual advantage nearly as much as being pleasant does. So don't knock fake until you've tried it--and believe me, you have. Embrace it. Love it. Marry it and have a bunch of little fake babies.
But as much as I don't hate the fake, I love being real . . . just in small, carefully administered doses. I try to limit my real intake to three times daily (with food, of course). OD on real and you'll go crazy. Don't get enough and, ironically enough, you'll wind up becoming a reality show host.
And speaking of the real, I've moved my daily Bible doses (my biggest reality injection) to a new blog. This was starting to become just a little too real.
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