Truth and Fibberish

Truth is an ambiguous term. By definition, truth relates to fact or reality.

To me, a fact is a fact, but someone’s reality can be a psychological mystery. An example is in the interpretive environment of a court of law. The opposition raises his hand and swears under oath to tell the truth. But his history of continually fabricating stories and not telling the truth won’t be altered when he says “I do.” In fact, when records, evidence, and witnesses all prove this guy has lied, it still won’t change his point of view, habits, or concept of reality.

The truth might look different to different people. But so might a lie.

The reason I discuss this topic is because of the former friend I wrote about six blogs ago, “Verity.” When he came to visit from out of state, he must have removed his wedding band, told his wife that he was at his daughter’s house, and prayed for adulterous behavior. After all, he is a Christian.

So I decided to explore truth.

Another form of truth is loyalty. I’ve always said I’m loyal like a dog. (I probably look and act like one too. C’mon, let’s have a sniff.) A person can be loyal to an auto repair shop, a grocery store, friends, restaurants, his or her partner. By continuing to wag your tail and support organizations and people, you show trust and honor.

Then there’s the eventual truth. Take my hiking buddy, for example. I blogged about a story he told me years ago that was hilarious: auntieeartha.blogspot.com/2008/11/take-me-out-its-garbage-day.html. He’s such a wild and crazy type, his story had to be true. A couple weeks after I posted that story, he couldn’t control his laughter. As we hiked, I glanced over at him, whacked his arm, and said, “You asshole! You made it up!” He still laughs about it. That kind of fibberish I can handle—mentally, but only after I beat the little turd.

Truth is keeping a promise, sometimes just to yourself, set as a goal. Truth doesn’t betray. I don’t tolerate betrayal well, yet have experienced it too many times and wonder if others have too. It’s entirely possible that someone unintentionally betrays another: The person simply doesn’t know any better. And for this, I cannot take offense. And if I were the offender, I would pray we could openly communicate about the incident.

But that takes guts: usually on the part of the offended to mention the incident. It’s so much easier to just move away from the situation and person. After all, there are lots of businesses to try and other friends to share time with. But a gnawing energy lives inside the mind and eats away at the body when communication ceases, causing a low-level stress that pervades the dream state.

So what does a person do? Write a letter, an e-mail, call?

When the friend with the secret wife realized he messed up, he e-mailed me four days later stating that he had not been honest with me. Essentially, he lied by omission, not an uncommon behavior. I’ve done it. But why didn’t he e-mail me a long time ago and say, “Gee, Auntie, I got married, and because I want my wife to trust me, I won’t be able to e-mail you anymore.” I could send him a congratulatory reply and feel good.

Are the consequences worse or better by telling the truth?

I liken correcting a fib and telling the truth to wine spilling on the carpet. The sooner you deal with it, the less of a chance it will leave a permanent stain.

And the longer a lie is held inside, the more it festers and crawls around inside the liar’s mind, body, and soul until the person’s consumed by that stain.

I know I say too much. Forever, friends have said, “Go ahead, tell us how you feel, Auntie,” because I don’t hold back. I prefer people like me, because when someone is too quiet, as my former friend was, I don’t easily trust.

I like to take people at face value, and when the going gets tough, I hope that a friend would team up with me. But it’s entirely possible that he or she will turn away.

I will keep my fool filter engaged but probably need a finer mesh. I just hope the fool isn’t staring back at me when I look into the mirror.

If you like it, link it! If you don’t, tell me why.

Thank you to my friend for loaning me his lions image.

You’re Married?

“Wife? When you say you’re his wife, what exactly do you mean?”

Imagine my deep sadness when a good friend e-mailed a seven-person group to say his son was near death in the hospital, asking for prayers and for God’s hand to move positively in his son’s life.

Imagine my calling him that morning immediately after receiving his message to express my sorrow and assure him of my prayers and his emitting a nervous laugh. I thought it odd but attributed it to the frightening situation.

Imagine further my shock, calling later that eve and having a female answer his phone—a female who declared she was my friend’s wife.

I have a lot of married friends, and none are scared to tell me that they’re happy or not happy in their relationships. But I have known this guy for 10 years and never has he displayed any sign that he was married. He’d indicate in subtle ways that he was interested in me, though not as overtly as some. He’s always been quiet, intelligent, and a good writer, not one who would sit and openly converse as friends do.

Listening is something he maintained he did better. Now I see that listening was better because talking might have inadvertently revealed verity.

My eyes are now wide open, and my mind is satisfied that I listened to my intuition. The last time he stopped by, I actually said that I have a rough time trusting people who don’t openly express themselves, fearing they were hiding something. I told him that I felt guys were after one thing and often sluts, thus averting any potential advance.

My gut spoke, and I listened. I have found it to be the best intelligence and my true friend.

So as this guy updated his now-undisclosed e-mailing list about his son’s daily condition, he’d sign off with “Yours in Christ,” or sentiments like that.

Hello? What does that mean? A guy who seemed willing to cheat on his wife, weak and lacking self-discipline, a guy who declares himself Christian? Give me the life of a heathen, so at least I can commit myself to a sinful life eating alfredo and meat, drinking wine, and eliciting choice remarks.

Yes, I am imperfect and hurt. I feel betrayed. Not because this guy and I would have gotten to first base, but because he had thoughts that surpassed his vows to both his wife and me. As a friend, truth is imperative. Truth allows a person to freely be with another. Sans judgment.

I will admit, I thought he and I were friends, but now, judgmentally, I wonder how many other me’s were out there, how many times he lied to his wife, and how deep his faith in Christ really is.

I wonder if he wonders if the fate of his son had something to do with his behavior.

I will never know, because I will never communicate with this fool again.