If I could change one thing, it would be hiring that lawyer. But to put it in perspective, if the lawyer was a mistake, filing that lawsuit was a disaster. You’ve read all the stories – who am I kidding? You’ve read the tweets, watched the auto tunes. I’ve done countless interviews where I’ve bullshitted about what made me sue Brittney for breach of promise. I’ve never, not once, answered that question honestly.
I was asked the same questions over and over:
“How did you meet?”
“How did you know she was The One?”
“How did it all go wrong?”
I granted all of the interviews, smirked my way through every lie. No reporter ever asked me if I was telling the truth. That would have brought the interview to a screeching halt and they needed their clicks and views and ad revenue.
I’ve watched my own face smirk as I lie about Brittney breaking my heart. About how I was there for her when she was going through her breakdowns. The truth is that I went to a few of her concerts as my little sister’s escort and my sister would drag me into pictures with her and the superstar – photos that I later used as evidence of the beginning of our relationship.
Of all entities, it was the paparazzi that backed Brittney up. If our relationship had been real, there would have been other photos. Photos of her and I alone. It wouldn’t matter if it was illegal to purchase those photos; they’d still exist. Multiple prominent and less prominent paparazzi testified on Brittney’s behalf. I lost track at 18 but we were there for days.
Then the questions changed, asked by the same glory-hungry reporters, now acting self-righteously injured not only on Brittney’s behalf, but on their own:
“Why did you lie?”
“Did you really think you’d get away with it?”
“Who do you think you are?”
It was that last question that slapped the smirk off of my face. Because I was just a guy. Just this dude who woke up every day, to get ready to spend the next 12 hours getting ready for, working at, and getting home from a job that he despised. That morning, Facebook reminded him of that first concert he ever took his sister to, and he got a crazy idea.
He laughed at that idea in the mirror as he shaved. He laughed at it some more in the shower, and then again over breakfast. Then he took one step out of his front door, and he was paralyzed by the thought of going back to that place for one more day. So, he told himself, it was do this crazy thing, or go back to that job.
“So why tell the truth now,” yet another reporter asks. This one is from Rolling Stone and I can tell believes that he’s more real than anyone else I’ve ever spoken to. Then again, so has every other reporter I’ve ever spoken to.
The truth is that I wanted to get money from suing Brittney but that didn’t work out. However, granting interviews did. I’m not interesting because I lied about having my heart broken by a celebrity or because I got caught lying about having my heart broken by a celebrity. I’m interesting because most people wouldn’t have the balls. And my lies have gotten old, so I’ve had to change tactics, in order to sell my tell-all book.
I pause meaningfully before I answer the Rolling Stone reporter’s question. “I finally realized that what I did was wrong, and I just wanted Brittney to know how sorry I am.”
Opening Line Prompt taken from here: https://www.plot-generator.org.uk/opening-line/