When White Lies Become Lie Lies
What’s the difference between a lie and a white lie? The general consensus seems to be consequence. Lies can hurt people or damage a situation. White lies are “harmless!” Like sugar frosting on an unpalatable truth. We use them to get what we want — whether it’s someone’s approval, a faster turn-around or maybe acceptance in unfamiliar territory.
I leaned heavily on the white lie for much of my early life. Starting with how much I “loved” dinner, to how I “don’t have any homework tonight,” and then on to how we were “just hanging out” at a friend’s house. In pre-kindergarten, I came home from a friend’s house one time and told my mom and dad about a crazy show that I just saw called “Beavis and Butthead”. I was never allowed over that friend’s house again, which led me to never disclose my personal activities to them (in detail) again. I learned to never tell my parents the things they wouldn’t like to hear. I slowly learned the power of the *white lie*.
By junior year of high school, I was an absolute professional. As far as Mom and Dad knew, I was a straight-A student with a great part-time job, friends only with band kids and musical gleeks, with a promising future (much true). I would feed them just enough details to keep their hungry attentions sated. However, my hobbies and “extracurriculars” had a rather dynamic range and often continued late into the night (read: domestic beers, gravity bongs and driving around until the gas ran out). But, as M&D were on a “need-to-know” basis, they just assumed I was eating ice cream cones at slumber parties with lights out by 11 p.m.
“How was your night, Treat?”
“It was fun. We ate pizza and watched music videos.” …And smoked two blunts. And met up with some boys. And raced cars on the Parkway. And bought Taco Bell at 1 a.m.
Maybe I’m just being cocky, and they knew exactly what was going on. Maybe I thought they were on a “need-to-know” status, but in reality I was the one who was on the “don’t ask, don’t tell” status. Maybe I’ll never know.
But one night in particular, my friends and I were feeling rather footloose and fancy-free. We jumped in a car and drove 20 minutes east, away from suburbia, to the Hudson River waterfront in Hoboken, NJ. If you’re not familiar, it’s a pretty stellar view of the Manhattan skyline. Oh what a night! To be young and wild and free! We whooped, we hollered, we jumped up on benches, we cartwheeled on the grasses, we danced in circles, we wrestled, we took selfies! We laid breathless and sweaty in the park, dog-piled on each other, basking in the big city glow and feeling the love.
It was way past curfew. So eventually we gathered up and headed back to the car (a long walk, mind you, in a parking-lot-starved city like Hoboken). But when we arrived, the driver realized that he did not have his keys. And they were not forgotten somewhere… they were just plain lost. We covered a lot of ground that night, and they could have been absolutely anywhere. After about an hour, if not two, of scouring the waterfront, there was nothing to do but give up and call home.
So not only were we stranded, locked out of the family car, miles and cities away from home AND a little intoxicated, but we had also lied. Just as I had lied so many other nights before with no consequence at all, tonight was finally the night when the jig was up. This went from a white lie to a lie lie. Kind of a big-time lie, I thought. I knew my parents would be appalled if I was the one who had to make that call to come pick us up at 2 a.m., when they thought I was home, asleep in my bed. Luckily, I didn’t have to, but the lesson was not lost on me. I promised to be better. If anything, I knew I could and should be 100% truthful about my location, in case of emergencies.
Weeks and weeks later, I’m hanging out with my dad in the backyard. He leans back and adjusts the sunglasses on his face.
“So I saw Joe’s dad at Stop & Shop today.” My entire body freezes. Joe’s dad was the lucky fella who got to get out of bed that night and save our asses.
“Hoboken, huh?” His smirk told me everything. That he was young once too — and, I’m sure, a big proponent of that classic, ageless tool: the white lie.
