Fake it to Make it.

Hanging out in front of a bar last night, shivering and trying to get over the shittyness of the show we had just watched.

Me, friends, friends of friends, among whom was a nice hot girl, a bitchy hot girl, and the bitchy one's boyfriend, who is dressed like an eighteen year-old despite being in his late thirties.

Talky talk, chatty chat.

Bitchy Hottie says, "Hey let's go to [Single Syllable Generic Club Name], it's industry night!"

Nice Hottie says, "Oh, yeah you guys should totally come."

Bitchy Hottie, "Whaat? Look at them, they're real estate agents."

We're custom home builders. And I looked good.

Me, to Bitchy Hottie, "Bitchy Hottie, look at me again, and take your time this time. I am at least three times more badass than you think. Probably only twice as badass as he thinks." Old Trendy Guy kinda looks around like I caught him, then, softening my voice, and talking to Nice Hottie, "But probably only exactly as badass as you think."

I laughed, self-depreciatingly.

She smiled, and blinked.

We walked back into the club. Me, thinking to myself, "Eehhh, overplayed my hand back there."

But, Nice Hottie sought me out a few minutes later, "Hey! You should really come with us!"

I couldn't, had to stick with the friends.

"Ohhh! But I think you would like it!"

I think you would too, Nice Hottie.

Lesson: Honesty is fine. But Honesty needs a suit and a nice pair of shoes to compete against Bullshit. Dress your boy Honesty up, take him out on the town, he doesn't get out much.