A wonderful thing it is, the truth. The truth can be many things. The truth can be a savior but it can also put you in bondage. It can be used to heal and it can be used to wound. In the wrong hands, the truth can be a very terrible thing indeed, but with the right motives, it is a thing of beauty.
It will set you free. But even freedom comes at a cost.
I was getting over a breakup a couple of years ago. I was doing alright emotionally for the first time in a few weeks post breakup and was taking a walk, when I came across someone I “dated”. Let’s call him David.
I add David to my list of relationships, though looking back on it, I think I should strike out his name because what we had wasn’t a relationship (heck, I should strike out a couple more names. They were just time wasters). But since I had called him my boyfriend once, I tend to consider him my ex.
David was perpetually scared of being outed, though he managed to overcome that fear when he was horny, and after he orgasmed, he’d hurriedly send me out of his room. He didn’t ever once let me spend the night with him in his dorm and was a talkative who wouldn’t even let me get a word in edgewise when we had conversations. He wouldn’t respond to my texts though he was constantly pressing away at his Blackberry when we were together. Was I blameless? No. I did play a few away games while we were together, so…
Looking back, I’m not sure why I was with him. I guess I was just waiting for someone else, and when that someone else came along, I ended things with him. It wasn’t even a dramatic ending and he didn’t even try to get me back. I’m not complaining about that though.
So, said person I left David for is John, who left my heart in pieces and who I was pining over as I took this stroll that brought David my way. He was headed to his office since he was an exco at his department and asked if I wanted to come along. There was nowhere I needed to be, and doing some catching up didn’t sound so bad. So I followed him to the office where we had sometimes made out (we had never had sex).
We talked and he asked me about John and I explained that we were over and he asked why and I sha narrated the story. While we were there in the cramped office, he made a move to kiss me. I wasn’t interested in any physical contact with him, so I declined. He asked me why. He asked why I was still pining over John, that John was no good, that me striving to be faithful was wasting my time, that he and John had hooked up while we were dating.
That cut through my chest like a knife. How could he? Not just John, but David too. How could John have hooked up with my ex? I know he had hoe-d around with a couple (or more) other people, but then to also get with my ex? (I confronted him later on with this, and he was like, “Everyone had had a piece of him (David) and he just wanted his fair share”)
And as for David, I wasn’t mad at him for hooking up with John. He was single so whatever. I was angry that he had used the truth as a weapon. I could see right through his act. He was horny and he wanted to use that as a means to make me so vulnerable, he’d be able to get into my pants. He didn’t tell me that to help me but to help himself.
That is what I mean when I say the truth can be both a beautiful thing and a terrible thing.
Paraphrasing a quote from Harry Potter And The Cursed Child: “The truth is a beautiful and dangerous thing. Handle it with caution.”
It’s easy to tell someone the truth.
Oh, you cheated on your boyfriend? Tell the truth.
Oh, you’re gay and married? Tell the truth.
IBK, have you had sex with a boy before? You can tell me the truth. (That’s my mother).
And in a bid to gain her trust and prove that I didn’t want to hide things from her, I did tell the truth and all it achieved was drive us further apart. It helped me realised that sometimes, the truth is best kept secret.
It’s easy to tell other people the truth. You won’t be there to suffer the consequences of it. The truth can hurt so bad that it does no good for anyone. Even telling the truth can be selfish, a way to ease your conscience, and then have the other human being deal with knowing this truth. A transfer of burden, if you will.
It really isn’t black and white when it comes to life, and some of the things we were told are either of two things that end up being complex. And it sucks that it has to be that way.
But there is bravery and honor in telling the truth, especially for the right reasons. I’m not against being honest. I’m merely acknowledging the fact that it’s not always easy or always right to tell the truth.
I was going to conclude with “telling the truth is almost always for the best”, but in all honesty, I can’t bring myself to believe that.
But what you do with the truth is what really matters. Why you use it, how you use it, why you reveal it and why you hold it back. That’s what I think you should think about before you take any action with it. It’s a blade. It can cut you, cut other people or cut the ropes that hold them bondage.
I’d like to know people’s thoughts on the matter though. Maybe someone can see something that I can’t see from where I’m standing.
Written by IBK