The only reason I paid any attention to the life and times of bicyclist Lance Armstrong was that, for a short period of time, Sheryl Crow seemed to be in love with the guy.
I kinda like her, okay?
Not “kinda like her” in a surf the web for upskirt shots of her on stage way. That’s ill.
I respect my fantasy women.
So, the theory went, if I could somehow be a little more like Lance, perhaps, someday, she would seem to be in love with me too. The last time I rode a bike competitively it was a Schwinn Sting-Ray in a race to catch the Good Humor man – but that didn’t mean I couldn’t attract a Sheryl if I practiced my lines.
It’s been proven. Women want to believe the crap that comes from men’s mouths. No matter how ridiculous it sounds.
Back when I was a licensed and often-quoted psychiatrist, my field of expertise was sex. Dr. Kinsey, Joyce Brothers, Dr. Ruth and I were sitting around the Space Shuttle one day when the topic of gullible women came up. Everyone wanted to know my opinion of why men lie about themselves so often and, secondly, why women will convince themselves potential lovers are not lying scumbags, when all the facts point to that being untrue.
I gave them my theory (Two of the three immediately stole it and used it as the basis of best selling textbooks). I don’t hold the thefts against them. After you’ve written a best seller, and then another, and another, you begin to realize that it’s impossible for friends and colleagues to keep from stealing ideas that are the best ever imagined. My theory, the one I explained to them that day on the shuttle, waiting for the Russians to bring us more cigarettes, is a simple one.
Men lie to get laid.
Women believe men who lie because I am rich and attractive.
It’s that simple.
This week Lance Armstrong attempted to paint over a decade of lying about his drug use by sitting down with Mother Mary Oprah and confessing his sins. I have no idea what he said because I do not watch OWN nor take an interest in competitive bicycling.
My small interest in his sport disappeared the day Sheryl Crow dumped him. If she don’t dig the pedals, I don’t dig the pedals, you dig?
For a short period of time she did dig those pedals.
It’s not the first and won’t be the last time a woman has fallen for a man who had difficulty with facts.
The other night, just after my Navy SEAL reunion, Mick and Keith and I were discussing the strange case of Brian Jackson. Jackson is the Pittsburgher who somehow managed to convince two ladies to date him by lying to them about his identity.
First, Brian told a gullible woman he was a Steeler – specifically, third string quarterback Brian St. Pierre. This ruse worked reasonably well, meaning police were not yet involved.
A few weeks after that bit of play acting, Brian then decided to go for the gold and pretend (with a second woman) that he was not the third-stringer, but instead the starting quarterback, Ben Roethlisberger.
And it worked.
Eventually, one of the woman’s friends had the decency to pull her aside and explain that the dumpy used car salesman she’d been dating was not, in fact, a Super Bowl winning quarterback.
It had to be explained to her.
At some point, perhaps between Lance Armstrong’s cancer surgery and her own, Sheryl Crow must have realized that everything exiting the athlete’s mouth was not able to pass the snuff test. I hope it was Sheryl who realized this and not one of her friends – Bob Dylan, Kanye West or Prince William.
The Prince, Bob, Kanye and I were talking about that the other day and we decided that if women are gullible and desperate enough, they’ll believe just about anything a guy spouts forth – for a short amount of time.
I think my point is this - I’m rich and attractive.
You reading this?
I would never lie to you.
After all, I’m a Navy SEAL.