Would I Lie to You?

Song Lyric of the Day:

Watch you burn the bodies in your haste to get ahead / Spread your lies (spread your lies) / Spread your lies (spread your lies) / No compromise

Paul Oakenfold featuring Spitfire / “No Compromise”

9:39AM.
I read this news story the other day, and it got me to thinking. I know the lies I regularly tell myself: I’ll start eating better (which I’ve actually managed the last couple of weeks), I’ll drink less soda, I’ll exercise regularly (also something I’ve been succeeding at), I’ll call that friend I haven’t spoken to in forever, I’ll write more, I’ll spend less. I know why I lie to myself: to make myself feel better, to motivate myself. But when is it okay for me to lie to someone else?

I adhere to the normal amount of lying. By that I mean I tell white lies when I feel they’re necessary. Of course, right now I can’t think of a recent instance where I’ve had to do that, but I know I have. It seems like the majority of lies are told in social settings and situations. I have pretended to remember people I could swear I’ve never met, I’ve told people that their child is well-behaved when it was actually behaving like Satan’s #1 minion, I’ve agreed to eat at restaurants when I really would rather eat somewhere else, and so on. Why do I do it? Because in circumstances like those, I don’t really feel it hurts anything to be agreeable. I may not initially recognize that person, but I will remember them from now on. That child is about as well behaved as attendees at a GOP convention, but it’s not mine and therefore not my problem. That restaurant isn’t one of my favorites, but it’s okay and my dining companions really want to eat there, so why not?

I don’t tell big lies, though. Primarily because I’m a lousy liar and would give myself away (Rich can read me like a pop-up book). But really because if an issue is so important to me, why would I lie about it? I just don’t see the point. If I don’t like someone, I let them know as tactfully as I can and remove myself from social situations. It’s easier than lying and pretending to like them, which would subject me to further misery by placing me in their company. If I don’t like the way something is being done, I speak up. I’m not going to pretend like it doesn’t bother me and be subjected to it over and over again. You get the idea.

The biggest lie I can ever remember telling was on an Easter Sunday long ago. My parents asked me how a piece of cat food found its way into my sister’s nose, and I said I didn’t know. Which is complete bullshit. Of course I did it. I don’t actually remember putting it there on purpose, but I knew deep in my 10-year-old heart that that little Science Diet nugget didn’t magically float through the air, choose a destination, and then aim for and lodge itself in her nostril. Which is what I told my parents had, in fact, actually happened: it was an accident. That lie got me a spanking and sent to my room.

I try to live my life as honestly as I can. It’s not always easy, but at least I can say that it almost always feels right. Not always, but mostly.