Ah, no I didn't take the last slice. No, I did not cheat on that Psych 101 test. Yes, I walked the dog. No, I did not masturbate, all of the time. Yes, I cleaned my room. No, I absolutely did not top my mamma's Smirnoff bottle off with a funneled cup of water after I made my first vodka tonic. Other than these bits and pieces of trust busting, I was a Good Girl. I made most of the "right" choices. The one's I was suppose to make based on the label Good Girl. I earned almost all As. I made my bed. I waited until I was 21.5 years old to deflower my virtue. Waited until I was "in love" for my sexual debut in a hotel room at the top of Madison to seal the deal. That makes me good, right?
We all lie, on occasion. Some of us more than others. We have all made excuses and omissions for our choices if not deemed Good and Nice. We all have closeted nuggets of our lives. Kept secrets. I worry that we are consumed with appearing good nice and right that we are occasionally forced to pretend when we are not being these labels. If we weren't all so consumed with being so good and so nice I reckon we would not need to hide all this shit of ours. Who made up all the Be Good rules anyway?
I sat next my friend, Dave Paisley (cool last name, eh?) on our way back from Idaho, recently. We chatted about the pressures to be good and nice and all that. He, too, has been researching this topic. He sent me the e-book, entitled, No More Mr. Nice Guy:
Read it, he encouraged. I replaced the Nice Guy label with Good Girl (since I am a girl). Thank you Dave P. for this gift that uncovers a bit of why we feel so damned to be good and nice. We are all so F-ing worried about being caught being bad that we are F-ing bad, sometimes. We lie cheat and steal to protect our story, who we are when we are under siege. Why are we under such pressure for approval? To appear good and nice? There are just too many drill sergeant lovers, friends, siblings and parents trying to keep a thumb on us. To make certain we will be their version of good.
We are all generally kind to our core, I am guessing. Hoping. I feel we are compelled to shy away from the truth, the truth of us when we are held on the spot to be a certain way. Will love be withheld if we are not behaving properly? Properly being someone else's version of what we should be? Yes, of course, I get that certain behaviors are not supportive for building and enjoying positive relationship bonding and keeping us out of the clink. So avoiding destructive words and actions may be a smart choice if we want positive communion and communication with others. Being mindful to be honest and true to ourselves and our people is a great route to take. I am talking about the list of Shoulds we get handed. The list that makes us want to run away from the Good and Nice.
My brother, Andy, served me a bowl of freakishly large blueberries last Sunday over a chat about deception. He insisted they were organic and safe (they were bigger than a normal sized strawberry). These deceptively delicious bulked up blues side tracked the chat for a moment. They were really Good, despite their bold presence. Anyway, we talked with Nicko and Avery (my delightful nephew-niece duo) about why we lean toward a lie, sometimes. I am a bit preoccupied with this topic, of late. I shared bits and pieces of my kid's lies (you were not writing a paper you were watching the season's final episode of Pretty LITTLE Liars), lover's lies (yah, my first boyfriend after the divorce had a baby with his granola pot dealer, unbeknownst to me. He was served paternity papers early Sunday morning six months into our love story, ouch), my lies (I only had two reposados with fresh lime -- 3 really but whose counting, yes, lush me, I was on foot. Yah, I saved enough cash to pay Uncle Sam, oops), my college roommate's son's lie (I have no idea how that ping pong ball ended up in the vase on the dining table-beer pong champion of his high school).
I tossed my homemade glittery wand on the bed. Gold specks landed in a light dusting upon my duvet cover. Only 3 friends may spend over, to my oldest son. Okay, Mom. I left for San Diego, leaving him on his own -- he was 18, senior year. A call from the front desk guy, uh K there are 13 teens headed up to your apartment right now (ha, cameras and everything). Sorry mom, thought you said 13 not 3. Little turkey. I booby trapped my room (with glitter), Kid. Non of the likes of you and your partying friends can sleep or have sex in my bed, I will KNOW. Anyway. He lied about the size of the gathering though did not dare test the magic wand protection power. I was on his ass and he wanted to have a party. He thought my rules were too confining. He went the "better to ask forgiveness" route. I wanted clean sheets and a Good son. Did my bossy momming encourage the lie?
Waiting his turn to spill a last chapter lie, Andy, nearly wets his pants eager to share his deception to his mamma. We are on a roll for a Saturday morning. The penguin Always faces west, his mamma, Zan said. She is ever so lovely and tidy. Andy expertly cleaned up after his first high school swinging chandelier party. He lied. No party mom, Geez. The penguin figurine in the living room was turned to face the south. The clean up crew had no idea where to face the penguin after the sweep. Or that it even mattered. The penguin was the compass that gave him away. He got caught. Most lies Pinocchio out of control. Bigger and bigger our noses get over stupid shit, when we get caught not being Good. We do not like being caught or put on the spot. And mammas don't like lies. He had to scoop horse poop for that one. For a whole month.
No one likes being lied to. Our foundation gets pulled out from under us when we suspect, when we know, when we prove we have been betrayed. It ruins trust, sex, intimacy, communication, Everything. Yet we keep on keeping on because we do not want to get in trouble for what we sometimes like to do.
Is there a solution? Perhaps, not. Lies hurt. And so does repressing what we think is f*^^&#g shit buckets of fun. How do we align these two polar positions of us? Hmm the book, No more Mr Nice Guy says, tell your truth. Check in and share what feels right for you. Tell safe folks what your lies are. They are far less excitingly potent when we share our thrill. It just may feel good to be good. Our version of good, not another's. Perhaps, we just Decide for today to amp up our integrity. Be True rather than Good or Nice for another to deem us worthy of love. Tell the truth because we want to not because we have to.