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Lies are bad. Any average Joe would agree. Yet, according to a 2010 study, average Joes lie an average of 1.6 times a day. We tell ourselves that not all lies are equal. Surely, presidents lying about WMDs to justify a pointless war or Daddy lying to Mom about his secret family in Indiana is far worse than the Easter Bunny’s existence or claiming to understand any Francis Bacon painting. Right? Wrong. The truth is that we can categorize lies all day long, but a lie is still a lie.Lies of omission. Anyone who has ever seen “Bambi” is familiar with the Thumperian principle: “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Sure, the sentiment is sweet but silence doesn’t trump truth. Not telling a friend they have a booger in their nose or that they are suffering from body odor before they go on a first date is wrong.
Half-truths. We love to pad our résumés with these little gems. The ability to manage time does not constitute management experience. Potty-training does not equate to advanced certification. Knowing the words to “La Bamba,” “Guantanmera” or “Oye Como Va” doesn’t denote fluency in Spanish. Why not admit to a lack of qualification for that executive level position? Better yet, why not hustle to get the training and experience needed to actually be qualified?
Little white lies. Parents, teachers and close friends excel at these types. It doesn’t make sense to tell little Billy some red-suited fat dude smuggled that new BMX down the chimney instead of explaining all of the overtime Mom worked to afford both the bike and the electricity bill. It doesn’t make sense for Professor Smith to give Susie an A in Nonfiction I and tell Susie that her writing has “promise” when Susie can not write a decent sentence to save her life. It doesn’t make sense to tell your BFF you came down with stomach flu instead of admitting that you don’t want to spend a third night in a row playing beer pong. Little Billy needs to understand the value of a Christmas present. Susie needs to improve her writing skills if she wants to become a best-selling author. Your BFF can handle the truth especially if you are supposed to be best friends.
Complete falsehoods. In the tenth grade, I was talking to my boyfriend on the phone when he told me that he loved me. I returned those three little words although they could not have been further from the truth. I did not love him. I was only interested in securing a date for the upcoming Jr. Ball/Senior Prom. I should have snatched those words back but I didn’t. Instead, I spent the next three years pretending to feel deeply for him. It was a complete waste of empty emotion and time.
Some argue that certain lies are necessary. A soldier may tell the mother of his fallen comrade that her son died a quick and painless death. A husband may tell a wife that she really doesn’t look fat in those jeans. An associate at Macy’s may tell a difficult customer to have a nice day. Still, we must ask ourselves why we are so afraid of the truth. Why can’t we handle the truth? What makes a lie so comforting even when we know it’s a downright pants-on-fire fallacy?
No matter the degree or severity, lies have lasting effects. Lies are the poo icing on a chocolate cake. Lies prevent Clark Kent from finding a phone booth to change into Superman. Lies build castles on sand. No lie is ever truly worthwhile. Not even for that huge corner office on the 17th floor, those really cute prom pictures when his cummerbund matched my gold dress or the endless ache of a lost loved one. The truth hangs in the air like a whispering spectre or a bony finger constantly nudging us in the spine. In the end, we still have to live with the lies we tell.
