Apr 17 2011
Greetings, Cool Peeps:
I like to tell it like it is. Of course, my truth might not be the next person’s truth, but I try to be true to myself and to humanity in general. Okay, you say. What is she freakin’ talking about?
Sorry, not trying to go philosophical on you. I’m just having one of those crazy overanalytical days. Today, I’m thinking about honesty. Is it a sin to tell a lie? Aren’t “white lies” a good thing in most cases?
Let me start with some simple stuff. Recently, I was on a shopping trip with one of my BFFs. We were in the department store when she asked me, “Molly, what do think about this dress?”
Take a look at it, peeps. What do you think of this dress? What do you think I think of this dress? There is a very good reason it was on the discount rack. While I have bought many cool items at a mega discount, this item in question would not be filed under “cool bargains.”
Since my friend was only considering the dress, I told her the truth. “Um, no. Not diggin’ it. Why don’t we keep looking for something a bit more fashion forward?”
Now, had we been at a party, had the dress been bought and hanging from her body, my answer to that question would have been different. I would not have claimed to adore it, but what would have been the point of being one hundred percent truthful in such a situation?
Little in life is black or white. I think we’re all enigmatic creatures with different rules for different occasions. Moi? Well, like most people, I do not like being lied to. Puh-leeze. Tell me the truth. Especially if you are a man and I am dating you. Moving right along.
Yes, there are occasions when I’ve actually gotten a bit tweaked when people have told me the truth. For example, one night I was meeting a gal pal for dinner at a local straunt. After forty-five minutes went by, she was a no-show. She wasn’t answering her phone. I was really freaking out about what might have happened to her. After being almost an hour late, she just strolled in and with a half-hearted apology, sat down and announced she needed a drink.
“I was so worried about you!” I told her. “You only live ten minutes from here. I couldn’t imagine what happened to you.”
“Oh, Molly,” shewhoshallnotbenamed said. “Jennifer called just as I was leaving home. She was so insistent that I hear all the dirt about her ex and his new paramour. You know Jen is a total motormouth. I couldn’t shut her up!”
Okay, peeps, here’s where yours truly has a little bitty teeny weenie HUGE freakin’ problem! Don’t leave someone waiting for an hour, worrying about you, just to find out that you were on the horn with Ms. Gabbermouth. Tell me that Ms. Gabbermouth was ready to jump off a cliff and you had to save her. Tell me something so I’m not totally pissed that you kept me waiting and didn’t think I mattered. But more than that, tell whoever it might be that you have got to go. Remind me to write an obituary on bad manners.
Am I ranting? I’ll try to calm myself down.
Lastly today, I want to give a brief mention to those situations where a white lie is kind, but yet being too kind can backfire on you. When my parents started dating, my mom took my dad home to meet her parents. Wanting to impress, my dad was not about to express his extreme dislike for the asparagus casserole with creamed mushroom soup and cornflakes that my grandma served on their first meeting. A firm believer in the white lie, my dad raved like freakin’ crazy about my grandma’s dish. He could have just politely eaten as little as possible, but no, he had to wax rhapsodic to the BS degree.
And if you haven’t already figured it out, that was the first of hundreds of goopy asparagus casseroles that my dad has been eating for thirty-five years.
This is only a blog, so I’m not going to dissertate, though the subject of truth and lies is one close to my heart. I’d love to hear your stories about lies, white lies, and everything else inbetween.
See you next week.
Yours in pickiness,