About a week ago, I was talking to a friend of mine and somehow, the conversation came around to health insurance. I know, right? You know you’re an adult when…

Anyway, there was a little bit of silence and I felt like the pressure was directly on me to fill it, so I told the only story of questionable relevance in my arsenal — about how I had recently had a rash on my body and went to the dermatologist.

Instantly, I knew that I had made a mistake. There’s only two ways a story like this can go — either I’m dying and/or contagious and now I’ve ruined the entire fucking night and no one will invite me to anything until the day that I die because no one knows quite how to tiptoe around the skin condition that may or may not be killing me, or the doctor prescribed me something and it’s gone and it’s no big deal and no one cares and I just wasted two minutes of everyone’s time with my “contribution” to the conversation.

It’s me, so of course the latter was the case. But I had already started the story, so I had to finish it. And I did, although my hatred for myself grew exponentially with every secondhand tick.

But I started thinking, you know what? Maybe next time I realize I’m about to tell a story that isn’t going anywhere specific, I should stop. Just let it go, like Jack Nicholson’s waistline. Let it go and tell a story that’s amazing instead. Since nothing amazing ever happens to me, I’ll have to make it up, but it’s not really lying if it’s for the benefit of the people, is it? I mean, when you tell your child that Rudolph is, in fact, a reindeer who, one snowy Christmas Eve, got to guide Santa’s sleigh because of his abnormally bright nose, are you lying or are you… entertaining?

It’s a personal call, really, but I’m going with entertaining.

For example, what’s better than telling everyone you lost your keys and then found them thirty minutes later in the keyhole of your front door (oh, you!)? Telling everyone you lost your keys and then realized you left them at [insert desirable but believable celebrity here]‘s hotel room (Ooooooooh! You!). See the difference? Same story, different details. It’s like getting an accent table for your living room.

It’s sort of like getting an accent table for your living room.

Actually, I think it’s just lying at this point. But that’s why sociopaths are so popular! They always have the best stories.