I’m Not Lying. I Swear.

Are you a good liar? How do you tell when someone is lying? Those are two more of Joey’s seventy-eight questions to me.

The first question is an easy one. The answer is no. I’m not a good liar. Of course, those of you who don’t know me that well yet can’t be sure if I’m telling the truth. Maybe I’m lying when I say that I’m not a good liar. Maybe I’m just that good. You just have to trust me on this one. I’m not. I rarely even try. I will admit that I may try to avoid a question all day long. But if you ask me something directly, you can pretty well bet that I’m going to tell you the truth.

A friend of mine says that you shouldn’t lie unless you can do it well. And I agree. Which leads me to Joey’s next question. How do you tell when someone is lying?

I’m not sure that I am necessarily the best person to answer that question. I used to think that I was pretty good at catching lies. That was until recently. Joey and I were talking about some of the places he has been. He has lived in Ireland and in London, and has traveled to Amsterdam, Mexico, Germany, the Virgin Islands and Spain. I reminded him that he had been to Australia, and he said he had never been to Australia, but that was one place he had always wanted to see. I said something like how could you forget – you were there for six weeks on business – I remember it really well – it was four or five years ago – we barely talked at all while you were gone because the phone charges were so high. He looked at me like he was concerned for my sanity, and told me that I must be thinking of some other place, because he had never been to Australia. And then suddenly a look of recognition crossed his face and he started laughing. He had forgotten his lie. He actually never had been to Australia. He had wanted to get away from a girl that he was dating and told her he was going to Australia for six weeks on business. He knew that she and I talked some, so he figured he would cover all his bases and tell me the same thing. What the hell? At least that explains why I never even got a postcard while he was gone.

I don’t like being lied to. Or, maybe, I do and just don’t know it. If you lie to me by saying that I look really good for my age – well, I’d like that, but probably wouldn’t believe you. Unless you were a really good liar and I really needed to feel better about myself that day. But I’d probably still have my doubts. That’s just the way I am. Basically, I tend to not believe a lot of what I hear. My starting point is to assume it’s probably a lie and to go from there.

So …… how do you tell when someone is lying? Who knows. Sometimes, it can take years before the truth comes out. At least no one died. Or was that all a lie as well? Heh.