Sometimes it’s kinder to lie. Sometimes it’s just smarter. Other times it’s purely an exercise in self-preservation. Gentlemen, have you ever been asked by the lady in your life if the outfit she’s wearing makes her look fat? How do you go about answering that question honestly without finding yourself sleeping on the sofa until you collect Social Security? That’s when a lie is not only kinder and smarter, but also an exercise in self-preservation. Telling her she looks like Kim Kardashian might be a compliment, but when you’re pointing to her ass and making a face….not so much. Same goes for if the gentleman in your life asks you if he’s any good in bed, at least compared to other men you’ve been with. Tell him whatever will make him feel good about himself. Even if he’s not that great, don’t tell him that. Find other ways to switch things up to maybe improve his performance, but don’t just say, “Actually, you suck.”
To be less humorous, there are other situations where lying is preferable to honesty, especially when being honest could do more damage. If I’m dying, don’t tell me what’s wrong with me, don’t tell me how long I have left to live. I don’t want to know. Lie to me. Don’t let me spend what little time I have left staring at the clock or a calendar, waiting for time to run out. I’ve been in a situation where I knew a friend of mine was being cheated on left and right, but I also knew she knew I didn’t like the guy to begin with, even before I discovered this about him, so telling her he’s a philandering dick would have been met with resistance, in the sense of her not believing me because I’d already had it in for him. So, I didn’t say anything. A lie by omission, but not an outright fib. She figured it out eventually, dumped him, and moved on to someone better.