How to Spot a Beautiful Liar..

Focus on her feet,

Forget the lips, my son.

The lips are hypnotic—

They numb the senses, cloud logic.

Let me show you how the con was executed.

Not all of it, just this most recent one.

Remember when her name first slipped out earlier this week?

The plan was already in motion.

She mentioned missed calls—

like she ever tells you about the ones that count.

Odd, wasn’t it? But you didn’t stop to think, did you?

Then it came up again—

this time, a subtle complaint, a dutiful mention,

the setup.

And then—poof—you didn’t hear from her the next day.

The usual excuse: she was too tired, fell asleep early.

But that’s not what her socials showed, was it?

Next morning, she calls.

Says she’ll be hanging out with the name you now know too well.

You knew it was coming.

You suggested meeting up after.

She wasn't sure. But she was sure.

She just wouldn’t say it.

Your body knew. Your nerves whispered it.

And with the snap of her fingers—gone.

No text. No word. Just silence.

Again.

Then came the tester text,

Checking your temperature,

Seeing if you’d caught on.

But pride made you ride her wave.

You met up.

And she knew she had you.

Now you bored her.

Her mood shifted—sketchy, detached.

She had already won.

She sent you photos of her trip,

Always alone…

Except for the hand behind the camera.

Your Jane Doe.

You spent the night,

But she wouldn’t let you touch her.

Expected.

Complicity bores her.

She had answers rehearsed

for questions you never asked.

She hoped you’d question it all.

But you didn’t.

Had you aged?

Had your instincts dulled?

Morning came heavy.

Her body language—dismissive.

Then her phone rang.

She sprang up to take it.

All you heard were her repeated lines—

nothing from her,

just echoes of whoever was on the other end.

And you believed it.

You questioned her—

but not the con itself.

You tiptoed around it,

asked about logistics, not lies.

She had whispered the name of a girl the night before,

planted the seed.

Another duty, another hangout.

And you bought it.

But I’ll give you credit:

You handled it well.

Kept calm.

Played daft.

Waited for the slip.

Because liars always slip.

And then she snapped—

looking for an excuse to ghost.

She didn’t want a follow-up.

Three clean days off your radar,

and she counted on your pride

to keep you from checking in.

She thought she won.

But you saw it all, didn’t you, my son?

When dealing with an enemy,

you keep your emotions in check.

Don’t act. Let her.

Let her make the mistake.

And she always does.

But be ready for the reveal.

You’ve been sleuthing at her center.

The truth is coming.

And yes—

even if you expect the train to hit,

it still hurts.

Anticipation doesn’t soften the blow.

But hear me:

It was never your fault.

You did everything right.

She lies to soothe herself.

Emotions torture her.

She is fractured.

You know it, and so does she.

You gave it a chance.

But she’s a fraud.

And it takes a father to say this—

You are slipping into a very dangerous place.

Don't lose yourself trying to fix what you didn’t break.