Harlan Ellison said it: “The minute people fall in love, they become liars.” I read that and thought, “Oh, that’s harsh… but also feels like someone looked inside my diary.” Because you know, I’ve done it. You probably have too.
First Impressions: The Costume, the Lines, the Lies
When we fall for someone, our default mode kicks in: Impressive Me. We dig into the closet, pick something that looks good in dim light, practice stories that make us sound cool. We tell them we hike, say we love spicy food (I do), and we pretend to know all the words to that indie band’s album. All of this just to tilt the odds in our favor.
Ellison nailed that performance piece: love becomes theater, and we audition. Not always consciously. Sometimes just instinctively. Because we want to be chosen, to matter, to feel like the person across from us is seeing something valuable (Ellison, Love Ain’t Nothing But Sex Misspelled).
Why the Lies Don’t Always Feel Like Lies
Here’s a twist: some of the untruths we tell aren’t mean or malicious. They are “white lies,” “little fibs,” “harmless exaggerations.” Like saying you didn’t notice how puffy their hair looked today or that their story didn’t bore you even though it sort of did. These are social lubricants. They protect feelings. They smooth the ride.
Research backs this. Bella DePaulo and Deborah Kashy found that people actually tell more lies to romantic partners and family members than to strangers (Everyday Lies in Close and Casual Relationships). Psychologist Alison Block wrote that many lies in relationships are meant to protect or impress, not to harm (To Live and Lie for Love).
The Sweet Fog of Early Love
There’s also this psychological phenomenon called limerence, that heady, obsessive infatuation stage where you see the good so sharply you almost forget the flaws. You do see them sometimes, but you sort of ignore them, gloss over them, or downplay them. You elevate the positive so much the negatives feel like background noise (Tennov, Love and Limerence).
That stage kind of feels like living in a filtered bubble. It’s beautiful, but it’s built on selective seeing. Which is a kind of lie (or self-lie, perhaps).
When Lies Bite Back
Of course, some lies aren’t so “innocent.” Small falsehoods can be like loose threads. They pull at trust. Over time, they unravel parts of the relationship. A study from the University of Notre Dame even showed that people who told fewer lies had better health and stronger relationships (University of Notre Dame, 2012).
Also, there’s pressure: you lie (or shade the truth) believing if they knew the full you, the messy parts, the insecurities, you might not be loved. So you keep up the act. And that pressure grows.
My Confession
So yes, I believe Ellison’s line. When I fall in love, I become a liar. Sometimes a tiny one. Sometimes one with big shadows.
Not because we want to betray, but because we want the moment to last. We lie in fear of being rejected for being human. Because we hope the person sees something in us that could be true, even if we are just polishing that version just a bit.
And yet, there’s irony here: the more perfect we try to seem, the more fragile things become. Because perfection wears thin. The truth has longer legs.
Something’s Real Even in the Lie
It’s not all doom. Some of the lies are love itself trying to protect, to build intimacy. And honesty, when it comes, feels like sunrise after a long night. Real love, I think, isn’t the absence of all lies, but the willingness to drop the mask eventually. To say, “Hey, I was pretending here. Here’s me, unvarnished.”
Maybe love needs those early lies at the start . But what it really wants is authenticity.
References
- Harlan Ellison, Love Ain’t Nothing But Sex Misspelled.
- Harlan Ellison, quoted in Goodreads.
- Bella DePaulo & Deborah Kashy, Everyday Lies in Close and Casual Relationships.
- Alison Block, To Live and Lie for Love: Reasons People Lie in Relationships.
- Dorothy Tennov, Love and Limerence.
- University of Notre Dame, Study on Lying, Health, and Relationships (2012).