I don’t like reflecting on ‘lying’. Not least because I have an uncanny knack of knowing when someone does lie. An instinct not enviable. In fact, it’s downright inconvenient.
I am not about to mount a high horse. Lie if you must. And sometimes we must lie.
On the whole, I don’t lie. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t. Also, on a practical note: Lie now, repent later is not my idea of meandering through life.
Do do white lies. That’s why they are called ‘white’. White lies, like politeness, smooth social intercourse. Just don’t lay it on thickly. Hot tip of the day: If and when need to white-lie arises don’t pile explanations and excuses on top of your pile of guilt. It won’t stick. Simple does it every time.
Blatant lies are to be avoided. And if you do feel you have no choice to save your bacon write down your narrative, learn it by heart, then shred your draft. Whatever you do, don’t try and flush it down the toilet. It won’t sink.
Where liars go wrong is that they will – invariably – waver. They forget their own narrative. Which is why crime does not pay. You may think you’ll hold your nerve. And you will. For a while. Beware the one – that’s me – who will outfox you. I have nailed people more than once in my life. It didn’t hold any pleasure for me to be clever. In fact to be clever at outing a liar is painful. Not so much on your own behalf as that of the liar. Who wants to see someone squirm, grasp at straws, fabricating justifications out of thin air?
Do I ever lie? For the benefit of others – yes. And have no qualms whatsoever about it. For myself? No. The closest I have come, and you decide whether it’s morally questionable, though most certainly defensible: ‘Omitting’ detail. Think about it: Omission. How cute is that?