There’s a shift in his eyes. A sudden sense of discomfort in the air. You know. Who did you go with?
“An old friend.”
“What’s his name?”
Hesitation. Eyes move away from yours, a millisecond glance at the floor. Then back at you. “Benjamin.”
There. Right there it is. The name, giving birth to the deception. The mixture of emotion that erupts. There was fear, yes. Anger, a bit. Betrayal, growing. I guess disappointment is the most surprising of them all. The understanding that you’ve just been told an untruth, a falsity, right in your face. Apart from his bodily cues that give him away and that sixth sense of yours, armed with what you’ve seen with your own eyes, you otherwise would be fooled.
Perhaps the wisdom in our era is not how to detect a lie, but how to recover from one. You’re bound to be lied to. The world is no longer fit for total honesty. How do you break the news that you know the truth without causing the liar you love immense embarrassment? He shouldn’t have lied in the first place. But don’t we all tell little lies every now and then?
How one uncovers deceit gracefully, begins a meaningful discussion, directs both into the path of recover: that is the question.
Have you been lied to? How did you deal with it? Is your preference the truth, or blissful ignorance?
Other blog posts on deception: Fluency | I am a liar