I Don’t Want Total Honesty

I just want…nuanced truth.

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

I don’t want you to tell me the whole truth. I don’t want to hear everything you’re thinking — about the world, about me. About someone I love.

I don’t want to hear about what you’d rather be doing right now, or the specific details about what turns you on (unless I happen to be married to you), or what you saw when you looked behind the couch, or what happened to your foot after your roller-skating accident in Golden Gate Park that time (even if I am married to you).

Make no mistake: I don’t want you to lie to me, either; I just want the right amount of truth. Of honesty. Of detail.

It’s called discretion. Or, being sensitive. Just tell me what I need to know. If I want to know more, I’ll ask.

But how much truth is the right amount? It’s so hard to tell. We’re making mistakes all the time. I know I am.

When I was in junior high school, my best friend and I spent a lot of time trying to get our hair to express the exact perfect lusciousness of Farrah-Fawcett-wave-curl-flow.

Image by skeeze from Pixabay