Interrogation

You know that feeling? That prickle on the back of your neck when someone starts asking you questions, but it doesn’t feel like a conversation? It feels like an audit.

I’m sitting there, minding my own business—probably thinking about my next iced Philz coffee—when someone comes sliding into my space with that specific, interrogative energy. They aren’t asking “How are you?” because they care about my soul; they’re asking because they’re building a file. They want the tea, the blueprints, or just enough information to go back and report to the “Council of Nosy People.”

It’s a talent, honestly. I can feel the difference between someone who wants to know me and someone who just wants to know about me. And lately? I’ve decided to stop being annoyed by it and start having a little fun.

If you’re going to treat my life like a deposition, I’m going to treat your questions like a creative writing prompt.

When I realize the questions are just “information gathering,” a switch flips. That’s when I start lying for sport.

Now, I’m not talking about malicious lies. I’m talking about theatrical nonsense. If you don’t actually care about the truth, why should I give it to you?

Interrogator: “So, I heard you’ve been pretty busy lately. What exactly have you been up to?”

Me (Internal): Oh, you’re fishing. You want to know if I’m working, where I’m going, and who I’m seeing.

Me (External): “Honestly? I’ve been training. I’m actually preparing for the Regional Competitive Competitive Hide-and-Seek Championship. It’s very intense. I spent four hours in a hollowed-out log yesterday. My hamstrings are shot.”

The best part is watching their face. They don’t know whether to believe me or call for help. They came for data, but I gave them a fever dream.

We’ve all been there. Maybe it’s an old “friend” who only reaches out when they want to compare notes on life milestones. Maybe it’s that one person who asks about your job just to see if you’re making more or less than them.

When people treat your life like a Google search, you don’t owe them accuracy. There’s something so empowering about protecting your peace by being absolutely ridiculous. It’s a boundary, just wrapped in a layer of absurdity.

My Top 3 Go-To “Sport Lies”:

1. The Career Pivot: “I’ve actually retired from nursing to become a full-time consultant for professional mermaids. It’s mostly about tail-shimmer maintenance and waterproof SPF.”

2. The Travel Plans: “I’m actually moving to a small island that isn’t on any maps yet. I had to sign an NDA with a seagull, so I can’t say much more.”

3. The “Busy” Excuse: “I can’t talk long, I’m currently in the middle of a high-stakes sourdough starter negotiation. Things are getting heated.”

At the end of the day, my life isn’t a public library. You don’t get to just check out my business whenever you feel like it. If you want the real Tina—the one who’s tired but caffeinated, the one who’s navigating the chaos of family and life with a nursing degree and a Leo’s pride—you have to actually be there.

Real connection requires real investment. If you aren’t willing to put in the work to actually care, don’t be surprised if the “information” you collect from me involves me joining a traveling circus or becoming a world-renowned expert in vintage button collecting.

If you’re reading this and you’ve ever “lied for sport” just to keep your business to yourself… I see you. We should probably start a club. But we won’t tell anyone where it meets.

Stay hydrated, stay mysterious, and keep ’em guessing.

— Tina