Let’s Talk Lying
My former husband had a really bad habit of sleeping with other women. But the real problem came when he would then decide that I would be angry about that, which would be a logical and justified reaction to betrayal, and he would lie about said habit. Inevitably, I would find out about his indiscretions and his lying.
Why did he think he got to decide how I would react to his choices? Some reactions are completely normal, and by sidestepping the natural consequence of actions that are hurtful to people, you rob them of those feelings. You miss the chance to work through a challenge. And now the feelings aren’t even about the original betrayal but about something completely different. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe the point is to deflect from the original sin and make it about something else, so there is never actually any accountability for the discretion. I am sure people lie for any number of reasons. They are afraid, they want to look better in the story, they want to save face, and they want to cover up questionable choices. But WHY? Who cares if the guy at the store knows you’re on the phone with a competitor trying to problem solve? Who cares if you don’t get the half-off discount at the wax place? Who cares if your mom’s friend knows you’re talking to your dad on FaceTime? Every time someone hears you lie, they know you will lie to them when it suits you. When I hear people lie for no reason other than to get what they want, it creates distrust. And people I can’t trust, I don’t want around.
I told Scott the first weekend we decided to make this relationship a thing, to never lie to me. That was a deal breaker for me. Five years later was the first lie I caught him in. I asked him point-blank a question I already knew the answer to, and he lied to my face. It was UGLY. I felt like I might come out of my skin. I don’t typically go fishing with questions. If I’m asking, I already have something in my pocket that you might want to come clean with. But he didn’t. He was afraid. He knew how I felt, and he was afraid. He made a choice that I would be mad about his actions, and chose to lie while looking me straight in the eye. I remember asking him if he wanted to rethink his answer. But by then, I wasn’t just mad; I was livid. You don’t get to decide. You don’t get to try to pull one over on me with your sincere eyes and smooth words. You don’t get to make me feel like I am crazy for being suspicious when things don’t add up. I spent too many years in a marriage where things didn’t add up, and I was not going to make that mistake again. It was a rough two days, with much questioning of my own choices to continue the relationship and what that meant when a very distinct line in the sand had been crossed. We had long conversations, some of them heated and emotional, and clearly we found a way to move forward, but I’m not naive enough to think that people who lie to others won’t lie to me. I guarantee if you call them out on that, they will deny that they lie to you….which is a LIE.
To this day, lying taps an inner well of rage in me that feels like someone picking at a fresh scab that isn’t healed enough and will bleed profusely when dislodged. You don’t get to decide for me how I am going to react to your choices. I guarantee I will surprise you 90% of the time if you let me decide for myself.
