You were happy when you were poor
And more honest and that’s your
Alibi, alibi
Sister is a whore, brother isn’t sure
Alibi, alibi
You don’t fit the body that you’re trapped in
Alibi, alibi
Papa’s got a brand new
Alibi, alibi
–Elvis Costello/ Alibi
I was thinking about something the other night, never mind what, and found myself wondering if someone was being honest. And because I am utterly incapable of black-and-white thoughts, it rapidly devolved into a meditation on the nature of honesty and if that was even what I really wanted at all.
Short version: yes, it is what I really want, even if I can’t quite pin down exactly what it is. Like porn, I know it when I see it. Mostly. Unlike porn, which I like on a very occasional basis in limited quantities, I prefer honesty to be a constant, and in large doses.
What I was pretty successful in defining is what honest is not. Somehow it’s always easier for me to define something around its absence. I’m not sure what that means.
Being honest is not telling the literal truth while hoping someone doesn’t ask more precise questions. That might meet some sort of legal definition of truthfulness, but it violates the hell out of the spirit of honesty. Being honest isn’t giving an answer to a question knowing that you are lucky they didn’t ask that question in a slightly different way:
“Are you going out tonight?”
“No, I am staying home. (the woman I am cheating on you with is coming to our place and we plan on fucking each other several times a night in our bed the whole time you are out of town).”
I think most of us would agree that the man in the example is not being honest, even if he has technically not said something that is untrue.
Being honest is being open. Offering information instead of waiting to be asked about it.
I guess the balance is in telling enough to get the spirit of the truth, and not hurting someone with unnecessary detail. It’s in a space somewhere between letting me know you met someone new and maybe don’t have the inclination to talk with me any more, and telling me that not only is she taller, more charming, smarter, funnier,thinner and prettier than I am but also gives better blow jobs, runs ultra marathons for fun and makes a lot of money. Both versions might be true, but one is obviously way more information than anyone needs to hear. And a mathematical impossibility. I am very smart and funny and give a hell of a…(hi, Mom)
If I’m asking what you’ve been up to lately, and how you’ve been, it’s probably because I am genuinely interested in knowing. I suck at small talk enough that even these basic conversational gambits tend to escape me. Is “Doing good. Really busy” an honest reply? I don’t think it is honest if it is code for you aren’t all that interested in me and don’t want to tell me that. It might be honest if it’s because of family obligations or work…but most people just tell you that. They say “I wish I had time to catch up with you, but I’ve been out of town so much for work that I barely have time to breathe. Be patient, it’s not you. I miss you.” It takes a few seconds longer, but is clearer.
Does that mean I am neurotic and need too much reassurance? Sometimes I think it does. Maybe I should have a 15 second form for people to fill out. And don’t laugh. I actually did that on a first date once. It was hysterical. We worked on it by IM before the actual date and agreed on the format and method of information exchange. So there’s a precedent in my life for having people fill out forms instead of talking to me.
Maybe like the ones I used to give my Mom when she was on the phone:
“Can I have some potato chips? Yes _____ or No _____ . Check one.”
No, I probably wouldn’t really do it. Probably. Except, uh, on a first date.
So where do I stand on white lies?
I have some issues even with those. I know it’s hard to tell someone you aren’t all that interested in them. It’s not any fun to hear it, either. But..but…but…it is SO much easier to hear it and get it over with than it is to go through weeks or months of “no, I’m just busy” or “of course I’m still interested in seeing you.” You always wonder what’s really true. You always wonder if you’ve become the one on the back burner. The emergency substitute. The one he will see in a pinch, if no one better is available. Or maybe the one that he likes almost as much as someone else, so he wants to keep you in reserve in case it doesn’t work out.
If you are one of those guys? Knock it off. If you aren’t interested, then just say so, and bow out graciously. Don’t say you want to be friends unless you actually do want to be friends and are going to behave like one. Being friends, to me, implies that you still want to have a relationship that is a platonic one. It isn’t a casual line to be tossed out instead of just admitting you aren’t interested in pursuing any kind of relationship. I take my friends seriously. They are important to me. If you say you want to be my friend, I will assume that I must be important to you. I will consider it dishonest if you tell me you want to be my friend and then proceed to treat me like a stranger or a used car salesman.
Being friends immediately after being in a romantic relationship? Does it ever work? I think I can only think of one time I’ve gotten the “let’s just be friends” speech and then gone on to be friends with the guy. Real friends. Friends who saw each other every week. It must be rare enough that it is statistically impossible. Sort of like getting killed by lightening through the telephone. Sure, it can happen, but it’s not fucking likely.
Note to self: just because you think someone may have put you on the back burner does not mean you should ever, EVER refer to yourself as “the gash he’s willing to stick it in if he hasn’t got anyone better to do.” Not even if that is how you feel. The general rules of balancing honesty with cruelty also apply when talking to yourself.
It is just possible that I am overly sensitive about being the back-burner option given my long history of being the either the runner-up, alternate or cast off. Part of me will always be waiting for some version of “you’re fantastic in every way, but I’ve opted for the insane woman, lesbian or trophy package instead.”
This white lie thing doesn’t only apply to romance. It also applies to family relationships. If your mother serves boiled cabbage for dinner and you don’t like it, it’s totally OK to say so if she asks you why you didn’t eat any. In fact, it’s dishonest not to tell the truth. Same thing goes for lamb chops, inviting the ex for holidays or if the volume on the TV is too loud. Mostly, if I don’t like something on the table, I just don’t eat it…but if someone asks specifically? I give a polite but honest answer. “I don’t really care for lamb chops, but there’s plenty else to eat!”
Who knows. It might result in not getting served lamb chops every Sunday for the rest of your life. If you say “I’m just not very hungry” you might get them again frequently.
Same for work. It is OK to be honest at work most of the time. If your boss mentions several projects, and asks you to do the one that you find the most horrific, then it is fine to mention that there’s another one you are more interested in. She might have thought that you’d prefer the one she offered you and be really happy to offer you the project you like better. Of course, she might insist that you do the sucky project but tell you it’s because she needs someone she really trusts to follow through. Or she might tell you that she doesn’t think you’re quite ready for the project you volunteer for. You never know what will happen when you are honest.
Honesty sometimes leads to getting what you want, with everyone being happy about it.
If not, honesty does not include hissy fits. Particularly at work.
Honesty is ultimately about being kind even if it’s painful in the short term. Or, I guess, the long term. Sometimes honesty hurts someone you love.
Honesty isn’t always easy or comfortable.
Honesty can be about what you don’t say just as much as what you do.
Honesty is worth the bother.
Honesty wants the other person to understand.
