Ahhh, how I adore uber! Sure, sometimes your driver gets lost. And yes, at times, your GPS pickup location is bewilderingly wrong. And yeah, sometimes your fellow pool passengers are insufferable idiots. But, come on. It’s Uber. It’s convenient! It’s comfortable! It’s safe, (usually, we hope)! And let’s face it, every time you step into a new uber, a magical, intimate, and anonymous journey begins. Am I right? No? Just me?

Let me explain. My joy comes not from how I feel about the uber, but how I feel about myself when I’m in the uber. From the moment I get picked up, “Maggie” disappears, and I can be whoever I want to be.

I can’t help it. If a driver or fellow passenger asks me about my life, the lies just come pouring out. Personally, I don’t like to think of them as “lies,” but as “creative deviations from the very dull truth that is my life.” I think, hey, I’ll never see these people again. I refuse to pain them, and me, with a recycled summary of my actual existence. So, why not give them a fable they’ll never forget?

Here’s a list of lies I’ve told about myself in Ubers.

Yes, of course I am a homeowner. I have three sons. Tobias is 4, Maxwell is 3, and my latest little babe, Cornethius, is 6 months old. I am Wolf Blitzer’s personal assistant. I’m in a 5 year graduate program for Medieval studies at Columbia University. Why, yes! I do spend most of my leisure time at the Cloisters admiring the Unicorn Tapestries. I am in a polyamorous relationship with hackey sack aficionado and a man from Hackensack. Stephen King is indeed, my father. I’m a poet trapped in the body of a trader. Yeah, I wish I could abandon my sterile, caffeinated, and lucrative Wall Street life too! But what am I supposed to do? Just pack up and move to a podunk cabin in Appalachia to write limericks off the coast of a frozen, sunlit lake?? As if! Oh yeah, I’m one of the owners…of Reddit. Yeahhhh, I’m a hairdresser, but I’m sooo over human hair. Okay, this is weird, BUT, my true dream is to spend my days styling the luscious locks… of Icelandic horses. I live off residuals from voicing the character of “Stinky” on Hey Arnold. Do you know the show? Oh no no, I can’t do the voice now, for fear of bastardizing the wonder that is Stinky… Hmmm, how would I describe my “feminist art?” Let’s just say, I fashion all of my pieces out of old food particles that I find in my roommate’s trash bin. I recently crafted a uterus out of a mountain of old pistachio shells… thank you! The MOMA has expressed some interest too… I am Maureen Dowd’s ghost writer. Does that mean anything to you? No? No problem. But yes, I am Maureen Dowd. Am I dating anyone?? Ugh, I WISH I was kidding about this but, I am in love with an Octopus I saw at the Brooklyn Aquarium. I have named her Janice.

Now, I realize that these outlandish uber lies may make me seem strange, self indulgent, borderline pathological even. I mean jeez, most of them don’t even put me in a good light. You’re probably thinking that I leave most of my drivers and fellow passengers feeling alienated and incredulous. But, here’s the thing: I don’t think I do.

Because, are these tall tales really “lies” if they come from a loving place? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Because, guess what? When you open up with a warm heart, albeit dishonestly, people believe you. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, they open up in return. That’s right. My affectionate deceit has emboldened drivers and poolers alike to comfortably reveal their deepest dreams and desires to me. And there’s no doubt that they’re telling the truth, because they are definitely not a creepy weirdo, like me.

Now, when people have gotten vulnerable, I’ve wanted to cave and admit that I’m not who I say I am. But for their sake, I have never revealed the truth. Oh, just imagine the damage I would do, were I to shatter the illusion that made these people comfortable enough to open up to me in the first place! A sinister plot twist like that would upset the equilibrium of the uber universe, and even worse, it could lower my rating. And the last thing I need is a low uber rating.

So there you have it, a list of the lies I’ve told about myself in Ubers. Am I nuts? Maybe. But before you judge, give lying a try. You might enjoy it. And perhaps one day, you and I will meet in an uber pool and get to mutually fool one another. Here’s to hoping. Until then, happy riding and happy lying!