When someone says, “I want you to be completely honest with me,” do they really mean it?
Actually, my friend Carol does, but I think she’s the only one. Y’see, I’ve arrived at yet another one of my brilliant conclusions and, of course, I want to share it with the world. I think we only ask when we’re pretty sure we know the answer and we’re expecting the other person to agree with us and basically confirm our opinion. Either that, or we kinda know deep down that we’ve made a mistake, but if our friend is ‘honest’ with us and says that no, we haven’t put a foot wrong, we feel better.
Perhaps we decided to cut our own hair on a whim, or shave our eyebrows because if Angelina Jolie could carry it off, why couldn’t we?
Now a compadre is put in the position of either being honest with us (“It looks hideous. We need to buy you a hat with a very low brim. Immediately.”) or not (“Look, it’s these kind of brave decisions that make you the unique person you are, and everyone will admire you for blazing a trail.”)
They say a true pal will always tell you the truth. That’s all very well and good in principle, but if you’ve ever revealed some unpleasant information to someone you care about, you’ll know how the ‘don’t shoot the messenger’ phrase came about.
My best friend Lynne is hopeless when it comes to keeping truths to herself. I’m not saying I’ve encouraged her to lie, per se, but sometimes I’ve just said it would be best if she kept shtum about something she knows. Por ejemplo, carry-on luggage for the plane is only supposed to be up to a certain weight. We can’t be the only ones who have overstuffed said bags with heavy items, and then tried to get them on the flight, undetected. The key is acting as though they are light as a feather, even as they pull arms out of sockets. And, to get them into the overhead compartment without screaming in agony, one has to employ one’s shoulder to ‘shoulder’ some of that weight, because if a flight attendant comes over to help, the jig is up.
You never want to hear the words: “Ma’am, we are going to have to check this bag.”
Tartar sauce.
I can sail through these kinds of scenarios, but Lynne crumbles like a dry cookie under any kind of questioning. Hell, I’ve heard her volunteer information when someone simply looks in her direction. It’s a scary prospect for me, the idea that she might be my only hope of surviving a bad situation if we get ourselves into a pickle. Suppose we’re captured by foreign government agents and they are demanding to know where the flash drive is? And suppose it all rests on Lynne to lie and give a false location to buy us precious time? I already know how it’s gonna go down – I’ll be eating a napalm sandwich while the baddies make off with a digital compendium of our vacation pics.
What I’m saying, is, there is a time and a place.
I also find that some people use honesty as an excuse to be rude. It’s like when someone starts a sentence with, “No offence, but… ”, which means watch out – offensive stuff coming down the pike.
“No offence, but you look like a hippo in that dress.”
“No offence, but your house really smells.”
“No offence, but I’d rather watch paint dry than listen to another of your stories.”
Who decided that so long as you start a sentence with those three words, it gives you carte blanche to be horrible.
“Your Honour, my client said ‘no offence’ before telling Ms. Marmalade that she resembled a shrivelled prune.”
Case dismissed!
Another example of when honesty isn’t necessarily the best policy is when it comes to the overshare. There is no question in my mind that many a romantic date went south for me because I decided to lay it all on the table from the beginning. If there is a man/woman out there who would find it bracingly refreshing to hear about their new acquaintance’s hopes, dreams, foibles, medical conditions, intense dislike of certain politicians and desperate need to be a parent before the age of 30 – all on a first date – I think they’re roaming about in one of those uncontacted tribes, oblivious to the fact that they’re a unicorn.
Wait until at least the third date before you bring out the questionnaire and E-meter, that’s my advice. And there’s no need to lie about yourself – don’t say you love skydiving when looking out a second-storey window scares the pants off you, and don’t say you could listen to lute music all day whilst quietly hiding your Megadeth collection. If you try to present a different picture of yourself in the beginning, keeping up appearances in the future can be exhausting, and you’ll inevitably slip at some point.
“Heyyy… on our first date five years ago, you said your dream was to hike through the Amazon with nothing but a compass and a knife.”
“Oh, did I?” [Weeps as the iPhone gets packed away in the house.]
Speaking of iPhones, or mobile devices in general, any of us using those filter apps that ‘freshen’ our selfies are bending the truth a bit. Back in the old days of dating sites, people would try to take photos of themselves at flattering angles, which is understandable. Now, there are apps galore that allow us to adjust the line of our jaws, correct skin ‘defects’, and generally make us look like computer-enhanced versions of ourselves. A friend of mine who’s a fan of such tools took a pic of me, and managed to make me look like a cross between Gigi Hadid and Merida from ‘Brave’. Hey, not saying I didn’t like seeing myself through those filters, but if I sent that out to anyone as a serious representation of my face, they wouldn’t recognise me to pick me up at the airport.
On one hand, it’s fun to use these apps for a laugh (we used a man filter on me, and I looked like Ray Winstone), but (in my opinion) that’s as far as they should go. Sure, we’re none of us perfect, but we weren’t designed to start resembling clones of each other.
If I’m being honest, I like my natural, God-given face the way it is. Now, pass me the foundation, mascara and lipstick.
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