Really, though, all other decent options were depleted by then. The months-long trail of white lies and intentionally misleading stories could not longer be sustained. Her narrowed eyes and pursed lips belayed her doubts and now I was challenged by a direct question. Cold sweat chilled my face and I mumbled a response.
As a note of explanation, I’m a terrible liar, and mistruths are accompanied by painfully obvious body signs that even the three blind mice couldn’t miss. My general honesty is based less any moral than a remarkable lack of skillfulness in passing off convincing untruths.
I’d never be a successful spy. Ordinary subtlety, let alone extreme versions, are not my forte. Then on the off-chance I can manage to pass off a fib, I wilt under the slightest questioning. Evil men in black wouldn’t have to drag out water boarding. I’d confess under the duress of a slight frown of displeasure.
You trade-off fascinating dinner conversations and stimulation for any possibilty of dishonesty when you marry an intellectual. She’s sharp, and brings an insanely intense attention to detail to compensate my utter lack of concern for such matters. Little white lies are routed out quicker than dandelions on a church lawn.
The proper degree of honesty in a relationship is a make-or-break determination of long-term success. Some lies are required and some are fatal. The proper response to a query if particular pants make an ass seem fat is not to point out that all pants make that ass seem fat. A declaration that you are the most beautiful person in the world need not include the fine print.
Other lies will cause a marriage to sink faster than a tissue-paper sculpted canoe. Betraying your deepest love by not only sharing your intimacy with an outsider but compounding that though lies makes mockery of any meaning of trust.
So why was I lying to my wife? And, more importantly, could I pull it off?
Ok, so you’re saying you cheated on your wife? Why were you lying? Because you don’t want her to know, I guess. What are your chances of getting away with it? Depends on how good of a liar you are. The fact that you’re posting about it on a message board makes me think you’re not a very good one, because thinking about it this much would mean you’ve done it wrong. A good liar doesn’t think about it at all.
(This is not an insult to you - it’s a tribute to your integrity.)
Just FYI, if I were a white guy in Tokyo I don’t think I’d be able to settle down with one woman. If I did decide I needed a long term companion, It’d have to be either an open relationship, or I’d have to carry on affairs, I’m afraid. Not sure if that’s any consolation to you.
You’re an alright guy though. I’m sure you’ll get through this.
I’m betting it wasn’t cheating. Notice the reference to white lies in the OP. What’s the odds the lie will be something along the lines of “No dear, of COURSE I haven’t organised a surprise birthday party for you, now please lets go for a random walk for half an hour for no apparent reason”
I’m going for one of the perennial lies that husbands have to tell:
“Do you think [insert name of female friend] is attractive”
“Do I look like I’ve put on weight”
I mean, there’s no way you can ever answer completely honestly to these even if they’re talking about a girl who models for a living, or asks it when they’re 8 months pregnant (both real examples). No good can come from the responses “she’s bloody stunning” or “you’re about twice the size you were 8 months ago”. Lying is the only recourse.
or a potentially loaded question
“If you want to go out drinking with your friends, that’s fine”
“No dear, of course I’d rather spend Saturday at your parents house, rather than spend a night pubbing and clubbing with my mates, staggering home at 4 smelling of beer and kebab, with a stupid grin on my face.”
She found your stash of porn? That you claimed belonged to “a friend” who asked you to “hold on to it” because his wife had found it and he only succeeded in averting a firestorm by claiming it was your stash, and so now you’re in possession of it but it’s really his and not yours, you see?
Do you really think I – I mean, you – can get away with this blatantly recursive lie? Only if your friend cooperates.
