GUEST COLUMNIST: The honest truth: Why I don't lie

People tell me I'm crazy. One of the reasons they do this is because of my "no deception" policy. Of course, I'd like to think that they are the crazy ones, not me. I mean, whenever they first find out about my policy against ever lying, they go through six distinct stages, like clockwork. Now that's crazy. Stage one: Denial. "You never lie? Bullshit. Everybody lies." Stage two: Hypotheticals. "Never? OK, what if there was this really, really hot girl, and you knew that you could get with her if you lied. You wouldn't lie?" No. "OK, what if she was about to go back to Sweden, and there was no way she'd ever find out. You wouldn't lie then?" Not even then. "OK, what about white lies?" Nope. "So if some not-altogether-that-pretty girl comes up to you and asks if you think she's pretty, what would you say?" I'd probably dodge the question. "That's lying!" No it isn't. I don't have an "all truth" policy, just a "no deception" policy (which is slightly broader than a "no lying" policy). If I communicate it, it must be true. I'm under no obligation to tell the truth or to correct someone's illusions. "So you can dodge?" Yes, and refuse to answer and change the subject and be diplomatic. But not so diplomatic as to deceive her. "So what if she wouldn't let you dodge her question?" It's happened before. A girl who lived near me last year came to me and asked if she was pretty. I didn't answer. She demanded that I answer. I told her that people have different standards for what is beautiful. "I want your opinion," she said. "Am I pretty?" No. "Aarrgghh!" "You are crazy. Can you lie in games and stuff?" I can lie only when it's agreed that I can lie, when I'm preventing someone from shooting someone else or something, or when I'm at war. "Yep, definitely crazy." Stage three: Testing. "All right, so you never lie. Fine, so then what do you think of me?" Do you really want me to answer that? "Um? no." Stage four: Begrudging acceptance. "Fine. You don't lie. Psycho." Stage five: Acceptance. I'll be talking with someone else, and I'll mention the "no deception" policy. They will look around with the "yeah, bullshit, everyone lies" look, and the person in stage five will come to my aid. "Yeah, it's true. He doesn't lie." Stage six: Utility. It is because of stage six that I know I'm not crazy. The people who want sugar-coated opinions stop asking me for mine. The people who really want the truth start showing up. "Geoff, I really need an honest opinion, and I know you're brutally honest?. How do I look?? Do you think I made the right choice?? Am I being an idiot?? Am I just rationalizing?? Do you think I have a shot?? Here's the story, which of us is right?? Is it my fault?? Should I be worried?? What should I do?" My friends reciprocate. A friendship where no one lies is a wonderful thing. You know what they say about open, honest communication? They aren't making it up. My words suddenly have power. I get to adjudicate disputes. "Will you be fair?" Yes. "OK, here's the problem?" I don't get falsely accused. "Did you leave these dishes in the sink?" No. "OK, cool." People don't question if I really mean what I say. When I say I think something is awesome, that means I think it is awesome. When I compliment someone, it's genuine. When I said "I love you" to my ex-girlfriend (she was definitely not "ex" at the time), she knew I truly 100 percent without-a-doubt meant it, and she never asked for reconfirmation. It is for these reasons that I do not lie. I run a risk, I know. However, I believe the return will be worth it. Switching over is hard. Friendships go through convulsions. You make a bunch of enemies. But when the smokes clears, the friendships that were strong enough to survive become stronger. Even your enemies come to you for honest opinions. As for me personally, am I happy with my choice? I consider it one of the best choices I have ever made, and I have never, ever looked back. And that's the truth.