In college, I crushed on a cute girl who was a serious activist type. Julie sported anti-apartheid and "Visualize World Peace" buttons on her backpack. She had amnesty fliers in her hands at all times, ready to be thrust into anyone's open hands. I may not be Abbie Hoffman, I thought, but I once wrote an article on Amnesty International for the college paper! I could talk the talk! And so I did. She ranted about political injustices. I listened, nodded, and flipped through her books looking for explicit descriptions of torture devices. She invited me to an Amnesty meeting. "I have to study tonight, but I'd love to get involved. Why don't we meet for coffee tomorrow and talk about it?" Two weeks and dozens of pots of coffee later, nothing was progressing except for her politics. Even though I supported Julie's causes, I was forced to admit to myself that rather than protest outside the co-op on a cold afternoon, I'd rather be home watching Mystery Science Theater and eating pizza. "Let's just be friends?" I offered. She snorted and said "You don't mean that. I've invited you to every Amnesty event since we met and you never came to any. David, if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem." I think she joined the Peace Corps.
I don't lie to the current love of my life. I've tried, but Kelly can always tell because I invariably giggle when I'm fibbing. I'm a bad actor. But I'm a good boyfriend.