I suppose in the broadest sense of the word, we are liars. Unless you are writing non-fiction, you are creating something that is not true. Therefore, it must be a lie. I believe it actually falls in that gray shaded area that most issues do.
I do not lie. Even when I was a child, I hated to lie and I hated being lied to. I have believed my entire life that words should not be taken lightly. With that said, I love telling stories and I do have a gift for exaggeration. When I retold an adventure, if it needed a little ummphh, I obliged. Is this lying? Or a gift for storytelling?
As an adult, I rediscovered this love when my young stepson questioned me about what exactly was a fart?
In an effort to put an end to the conversation before it could begin, I told him that I would not know because that is not something that I did. I was being polite but he took it literally. He kept questioning why I did not fart. I found myself explaining in great detail that while little girls and boys fart often when they are young, as they advance through puberty, girls are unable to fart. They become ladies. Men make up for it by farting a lot more.
He accepted this and I am sure spread the word among his friends. He is grown now and I suspect still believes every word. I have no regrets.
My husband's lying is limited to accidents, bloody wounds flowing with ketchup, and me. He has an obsession with convincing everyone that whatever I am saying is a lie.
However, he never does this when I am actually lying (exaggerating). He only feels the need to do this when I am telling the truth.
When we decided to have a child, my husband and I promised each other we would always be truthful with him. Of course Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy were exceptions to this promise. Our resolve has weakened over the years.
When my son told me in Kindergarten that it was his teacher's birthday and she was 23 years old, my jealous vanity prompted me to say "Really? That is so nice, I am 23 too". I stayed 23 years old for the next five years without question until he became much better at math.
My son is older now, and questions everything we say with suspicion. I have sworn to be truthful about the changes he will go through to make his transition into adulthood easier.
My husband has only increased his evil ways over time. When explaining to my son about body hair and where it eventually ends up, my husband delighted in convincing him that this was not true.
My son believed for quite some time that men did not grow body hair at all. I was gross and perverted for making up such a disgusting story to scare him with. Time has now proven who the liar was.
So whether we are liars at heart or just great storytellers, I think the lesson here is...keep it to the stories. It's healthier that way.
My husband can testify that sleeping on the couch for any length of time...isn't good on the back.