Obligations. Invitations. Sometimes they're fun; other times I'd rather pick the nail polish off my toes for hours than attend an event with my in-laws or even our friends. And while my husband often shares my sentiments, he is more likely to grin and bear it. That means I have to do the dirty work for two in order to extricate us. While writing this story, I had three situations come up -- do I tell the truth or create a lie? I decided to test three different escapes. Here’s how they worked.
FYI: Since I'd like to be able to use my fibs and semi-truths in the future (and not publicly out myself to loved ones), I am using fake names. Our identities might be hush-hush, but our methods are meant to be shared.
Method #1: A Lie
The gut-reaction type of defense that I'm horrible at, but comes highly recommended by other friends.
The situation: I left the house for 10 minutes and returned to find DH had signed us up for our friends Mark and Jane's "painting party." Are you kidding me? I would no sooner paint my own living room than waste a Sunday applying ecru to someone else's walls. You can serve chips and beer, but that does not make free manual labor a party.
The plan: There was no choice but to make my husband, Todd, the fall guy. I'd have to come up with some previous engagement that would not allow any room for our pals to be suspicious or wheedle us into work. And I couldn't get caught.
The back-out: I had to call and say that our friends Kip and Kitty had already invited us over for a barbecue on their new deck. The two duos don't really know each other, but I still had to cover all bases by calling Kitty to let her in on my lie.
The result: I felt tentative and scared that I was creating too many pieces to my lying puzzle. DH kept his distance from me as the lie unfolded, as if he might catch something nasty from my phone call. Did he think I was evil for doing this? I certainly wasn't enjoying my con -- or was I? The truth (seriously) was that the whole thing was kind of exciting! Still, I can think of better ways than lying to get my heart rate going.
And to make matters worse, the tiny connection that links Kip with Jane (their sisters were in the same college sorority) sparked that Saturday in the aisle of Home Depot. Thank goodness I had let Kitty in on my plan, but the whole thing made me feel uneasy. I made a friend lie for me, and I wasn't there to monitor her delivery. Was she convincing?
I have to admit, though, getting QT with DH was worth it. With a lot of effort and the help of some not-so-willing accomplices, we spent the day paint-splatter-free. Would I do it again? Probably. But I wouldn't involve other friends. I don't want people to know my dark side!
Method #2: The Truth
This is the often-uncomfortable approach that most psychologists and experts recommend. But is honesty really the best policy?
The situation: I mention to Todd's mom that he and I are going on an antiquing daytrip to find silver serving pieces to complement our wedding china. Always eager to be one of the gang, she invites herself along and doesn’t hear my subtle hints that Todd and I see this as a solo venture. In a nutshell: I agreed!
The plan: Changing our plans is out of the question. Hoping MIL will win the lottery and fly off to Paris is also pretty much a worthless prayer. I have to be upfront to get what I want.
The back-out: Being a bit of a scaredy cat, I emailed MIL. It gave me a chance to work on my delivery and really get my point across, without being interrupted by her saying she never sees us. I said something like, "I know you're looking forward to joining us, but Todd and I haven't spent much time alone lately and I was hoping this could be a romantic day for two. Can we make other plans with you?"
The result: Gearing up to tell MIL we wanted to take a pass after I already agreed to have her join us was the toughest part, but telling the truth was surprisingly easy and freeing. I avoided any unflattering adjectives, and did not launch into how she's bossy and always trying to nose in on my already infrequent alone time with DH.
It turns out I earned some respect in the process. MIL appreciated hearing the truth and now knows that I don't jump when she snaps her fingers. She graciously (shocker!) accepted my desire to antique a deux and thanked me for offering to make new plans. The only problem now -- I have to make new plans!
[Nest Note] Email is tricky and can always be misinterpreted (she reads it in her dry tone, where as you wrote it cheerful and upbeat). Be sure not to write in all caps, and even if you hate smiley faces, this is a good place to add them if you want her to know you mean well.
Method #3: A Half-Truth
This is the option that feels like an itty-bitty lie...so the guilt should be equally small. It seems to be where I could do my best work.
The situation: We're out to brunch with Mike and Misty when my new purse is outed. It seems Misty wanted to buy the same soft brown leather hobo, but Mike nixed it due to the cost, which I never fully revealed to Todd.
The plan: I'll dole out some half-and-half.
The back-out: I am no shopaholic, but I do like to buy expensive things. I rationalize it by buying fewer goodies that just happen to cost more. So I give Todd the truth with a twist: I had a coupon for half off. It could happen; it just so happens it did not, because I wanted to save the discount for another purchase. While he thinks I spent $100, I really forked over $200, with the intent to make up the difference. I plan to cut back over the next two weeks by limiting my lunches out and skipping my pedicure.
The result: Shopping fight avoided! I got the bag and Todd was none the wiser. Misty also got a swift kick to the shin under the table. I have used this tactic well to my advantage at other times too. Like when DH asks if I put mustard in the dressing, I always say no and he always says how much he likes it. If he knew there was Dijon in the mix, he'd spit it out. No harm done.
The Verdict:
I still feel there's a time and a place to lie, but from now on, I won't involve friends in my deceptions. I definitely learned that telling the truth isn’t as hard as it seems -- well, not always anyway. So as difficult as it might be, I'm really going to try to make the truth my plan A. But I might have to throw an exaggeration (aka white lie) into the excuse to make it go down a little easier. The half-truth is more my style. Do you believe me?
by The Nest Editors
2/11/08
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couple issues,
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