FanStory.com - Little White Liesby michaelcahill

A recent lunch conversation:

Carlos: "I’m down to about 215"

Mikey: "Really? I can’t believe you weigh more than me. You don’t look it."

Donna: "Muscle weighs more than fat, Mike."

Now, I’m not sensitive and her answer didn't hurt me in the slightest. In fact, it cracked me up that she would say something so insulting. So I seized the opportunity for a comedic diatribe. I'm known for these, at least by the people stuck in my presence.

“Oh yeah, we all know that. Of course, men made out of breast tissue are always lighter than men made out of rock hard steel. Naturally, a penis constructed of titanium is going to weigh more than one made of Sta Puft marshmallows.”

The whole time my friend Carlos is crying with tears laughing and my dear wife is falling all over herself apologizing. I found it all hilarious. It brings up an interesting topic though, ‘little white lies’.

I don’t want to get into any of the charged racial undertones of the topic. I’ll leave that to the severely politically meticulous. We are all on the same page I assume and know what I’m talking about. When your lovely wife asks if her behind looks too big in her new tight fighting jeans, your reply is …

Those of you who didn’t reply, “NO!” are hopeless and won’t benefit from this article, but it won’t hurt you either, so everyone, please read on. I’m proud to say I’ve never slipped up once in my entire life answering one of those loaded questions. The closest I’ve come is the awkward silence following a question whose answer is not clear.

“Does this blouse make me look too fat or too skinny?” Exactly correct. There is no answer. Just run away. Don’t hesitate or offer an explanation as to why you are leaving, just run.

My favorite truth teller was a girl named Christine. We had a large difference in age as well as a large difference in economic status. This made for an amusing existence for us. Neither of us had thin skin when it came to, well, anything. No topic held any sacred hands off status between us. There was one though, age. At first she held this belief that age held a place of sensitivity within me. I swear it touched me when she’d misspeak anything about age and then stutter, “I don’t mean you, Mike, ya know, I mean them.” and she’d even blush. I swear, it was darling and so out of character. Finally, I fessed up and told her it didn’t bother me at all. She was twenty and I was forty-six.

The one with the money had black hair, amazing almost black eyes and an incredible rockin’ body. The pretty fit for his age dude was me. We’d get some hilarious double takes picking up a bottle in a liquor store. They’d nod knowingly when we walked in, the beautiful woman dressed impeccably and the scruffy long-haired dude in shorts and flip flops. They'd think to themselves, no doubt, yeah, he's buyin' her a lot of diamonds ...The looks on their faces when she’d pull out her Visa card to pay for everything … priceless.

Two of my favorite inappropriate lines are hers. We were driving, I don’t know, somewhere, I was rattling on about how I wished I didn’t have to be the center of attention all the time, I said, "I’d just like to spend a quite evening with my own kind." With perfect timing she pushed the accelerator and declared, “Well, we’re off to the morgue!” I wish you could’ve been there, in the car that is, not the morgue ...

One more Christine story. We were talking to some friends and one of them, a male, a jealous one (I didn’t blame him) said, “So, Cahill, how does it feel robbing the cradle?” Christine quickly interjected as she pulled me in close to her, “He’s not robbing the cradle, I’m robbing the grave!”

You can well imagine how devastated I would’ve been if age had been an issue for me. But she KNEW it wasn’t, indeed, she knew we found it to be the biggest hoot that it bothered people to death. If she knew it bothered someone, she'd pretend like she couldn't speak English and I was taking advantage of her. "I am job."

I digress.

Part of the mindset of these little white lies as I’ve designated them have to do with courtesy and kindness. It’s a mean-spirited world in my opinion. There is a general lack of respect for everything, age, sex, just simple human existence in whatever form it happens to take.

Isn’t any human being entitled to basic courtesy and regard? No one taught me to hold the door open for someone going through it. It seems like the thing to do. No one taught me to thank an individual for holding a door open for me as I pass through. It’s simply a right thing.

I can’t begin to understand why that makes me anything at all. I’m courteous? I’m a gentleman? How is doing the simplest natural human act reason for any recognition at all? See, I find it astonishing that basic human etiquette is considered virtuous as opposed to being a given.

When I ask a couple old ladies sitting on a park bench, “how are you young ladies doing this afternoon?”, am I lying? Hell no, I’m not lying. You can call it a white lie, but honestly, in my mind it’s simply the truth.

Now, if they ask me if their wrinkle cream is doing the trick and I respond, “Well, if your fifty-five years old and trying to look forty-eight, then yes”, THAT is a white lie. Of course, they look seventy-five and all the make-up on earth won’t help. However, of what value would it be to tell them all the make up in the world won’t help? That’s the question at hand.

From now forward take a personal pledge to make everyone you encounter a little better off for having encountered you. It’s a simple task. Open some doors. Pass out a few compliments.

But most of all, tell a few white lies that reflect a deeper truth, it makes for a better world.