Monday, 3 October 2011

Have you ever

Have you ever pretended to be someone you're not?

I'm sure you have. All of us have at some point in our lives, whether that's pretending to be someone we're not in the school playground (I have a feeling that, for a while, I was Jacques Cousteau's son - not a good plan if you don't speak a word of French).

Or perhaps, in later life, in an interview. I remember once explaining that I had a PhD in the articulation of arthropod knees and it's potential application to the creation of hinged cricket stumps.

I didn't get the job which, I seem to remember, was for a trainee manager's position with HFC Bank.

Later still, some of you may have experienced the joy that is online dating. Many MANY people there pretend to be someone they're not. I know this from personal and anecdotal experience. I don't just mean the 'lop-a-couple-of-years-and/or-a-couple-of-pounds-off-the-profile' type creative accounting, but the full blown 'are-you-SURE-I-didn't-mention-my-three-wives-and-seventeen-kids' type creativity. My personal favourite was the chap who claimed to be a Squadron Leader in a Tornado squadron of the RAF. He turned up in full uniform on at least one occasion, used military jargon in all his emails and actually promised his girlfriend (a friend of mine) a flight.

He turned out to be an Estate Agent.

Still, if I were an estate agent, I'd probably lie too.

Of course, this can work to your benefit, as I'm becoming convinced that whatever you say about yourself, people now automatically add several years/pounds or deduct several..... what IS the collective noun for hairs?....... bushells? That'll do. Several bushells of hair. So when you actually ARE what you say, it can work to your benefit.

I hope.

But despite honesty in that arena, we all sometimes pretend to be someone we're not. I just did it. Just now. I've done it before, but this time it somehow hit me. Maybe it's "that" time of year. Whatever the reason, it's not something I felt good about.

I just sent my daughter an email with her motor insurance certificate.

I told her to check it carefully and let me know if anything was incorrect.

I told her to keep a copy with the car.

I signed it "Dad".

And it suddenly struck me.

I'm an imposter.

I'm not 'Dad'. Dad is Dad. I'm me. His son.

I feel all unsettled.

Think I need to go and talk to Dad.

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