The rental agreement said we could have a “medium sized dog” (implied adult and housebroken). Well, that exactly what the puppy we had at the time grew into, so no problem.

My most recent lie was used to get off the phone with a yappy friend whom I love dearly.

I suspect I’m a little sadistic, by nature, so, when I listen to my kinder (albeit, not necessarily better) angels, I will often lie rather than risk scarring someone. I have lied tremendously to accomplish this from time to time. I have even conscripted others willingly into my lies to make the lies more convincing.

Lying as lifestyle.

Sometimes, I have spread a lie around to make others into unwitting corroborators of this or that lie. Sometimes, I will sandwich a small mayonnaise of lies between two meaty truths just to make it taste better.

All this I have done without a moment’s hesitation or regret. When I feel someone really doesn’t want the truth, I am an unrepentant liar.

On the other hand, there are some things I find it impossible to lie about. I will tell you if I hate your clothes, your shoes, etc. If you story doesn’t work for me, I will tell you exactly what it is that doesn’t seem clear. If a movie didn’t work for me, I haven’t the slightest hesitation in saying exactly so.

Somehow, truth within art matters…

I have no idea, however, why aesthetics deserve such an absolute dedication to the subjective truth while the emotional well being of another person seems to trump the notion of “honesty is the best policy”.

I’d like to say that the difference between things I will and will not lie about are huge, but I’m aware they’re not.

Truth. Lies. It all feels rather arbitrary, somehow.

Honestly.

So if I couldn’t get away with a noncommital answer, I would lie and say, Nothing. They must have thought I spent an awful lot of time staring off vaguely into space, Luna Lovegood-like. Not true at all. But I didn’t get into trouble that way for some reason.
I think I’m past that now, anyways. Though I still read instead of cleaning my room!

I think he feels guilty about distracting me.
while my mom just goes on about
“in my day we never skipped college classes”
yeah right!

I do not feel badly about this in the least.

I have no idea if it makes me moral or not, but I don’t know that it’s my job to teach my peers lessons about themselves.

(I often tell the “that doesn’t bother me at all” lie, but I’m trying to cut down on that one!)

But you wanted examples. From today:

“Can I ask (Child Friend A) come over to play tomorrow?”
“No my dear. You know that (Child Friend A and B and C) mommies all have busy days with lots to do. We have to plan ahead.”

The which is true! However, the actual “no” is because we have errands to run and a house to clean and yardwork to accomplish and I didn’t want to get into an argument about it.

My lease may or may not state that we have two declawed cats when we actually have four cats of which only one is declawed. However, one of these cats only has three legs, which I like to think may or may not make up for some small part of this might be lie.

I have been known to embellish a story as I’m telling it without realizing I’m doing it. It happened a lot in high school and college, and it’s always embarassing, even though no one knows but me, when I realize what I’m saying. Thank goodness I seem to have grown out of that.

I sometimes say I’m allergic to pot, since Austin is Hippieville, USA, and I hate answering all the questions that come with saying “I don’t smoke.” I’ve also pretended I was called Lotus (to keep a guy from calling me) and to know a lot about Miles Davis’ career (to keep a guy from calling my friend) and given out fake phone numbers (a Latin King and I had a dialogue on the F train once…he also thought my name was Lotus) and pretended to be a natural red head.

But I can’t remember the very last lie I told. I’d like to think maybe it’s just been a while.

Fortunately, there’s far more truth than lies involved, but the whole process is still a bit broken for the psychology that goes on between the two parties.

I’m really not feeling bad about it, either. He won’t read the article until I print it tomorrow morning, and it won’t go into the newsletter until I put it on my layout anyway.

The joys of having a boss who knows how to set deadlines, but doesn’t know how to work a word processor, let alone a more advanced template…

I find I don’t play with it at all, no time, want to read much more, but I still want to keep it as mine all mine.

A while back my younger son found a game cartridge in my bedside table, and I made up a story about it being not mine, but a friend’s, who had accidentally left it at our office, and I hadn’t yet returned it to him.

And then I twittered the story and upset the friend! Who didn’t want to be part of the LIE! So now I am sorry. But not sorry enough yet to tell the kids I have a DS.

Several times a day, if the person I’m talking to sounds demanding or rude, I tell them I’ll try to reach someone, put them on hold while I prepare a message, then come back on the phone and say the person they wanted to speak to is with a patient (which is always true–I don’t need to confirm it) and I’ll have to take a message.

I used to be uncomfortable doing that, but after being treated in to a long string of condescending lectures, no more.

btw, there are still some things I told my parents (lies) that they believed and still don’t know are lies to this day. And I’m not telling them!! lol

Over the years, I’ve sublimated the impulse to gussy up inconvenient truth into writing stories and tried to fess up to my errors. What I can’t (and don’t see any reason to) change is the kind of lie I told my sister-in-law elect last night: Yes, I said. That skirt goes perfectly with that top. It doesn’t. But I’ve given her about all the advice about her wedding outfit a grown woman should give another, and she loves the skirt, and it doesn’t look horrible, and she has Issues and it’s going to be a very small wedding. So I lied.