Two truths and a lie is a fun little game.
Oddly enough, the one time I played it was with my church’s youth group when I was doing my internship.
I’ve always been good at things of that sort though.
I think it’s genetic.
Have you ever played two truths and a lie?
It’s a game where you have a person stand up and tell three stories in a row. Two of them are true, and one is a lie. They can tell the stories in any order they want, and they have to give an opportunity for people to ask at least a few questions.
In the alternate version, 3 people each tell one story. Two tell the truth, one tells a lie.
Typically, people are given time to come up with their stories, and they are able to think through possible questions that others may ask.
Since I was little, I’ve told stories like that. It’s something that I grew up watching my Dad do, so it’s normal.
We don’t lie, so much as we spin yarns.
Yes, I know, that’s what most liars tell themselves.
But really, we don’t go into it to deceive people.
Instead, we tell stories that butt right up to the truth.
We add in a little detail here and there, and switch this and that up, just to see how long people continue to believe the tale.
If the listener knows us well, they ask us questions, trying to discover if we are telling the truth or not.
But we’ve gotten pretty good at answering those questions on the fly, and making it sound legitimate.
The truly peculiar thing in all of this is that people who know my Dad and me, and know that half of what we say is nonsense, still believe us.
Very few of them remember that the best way to find out if what we say is true, is to ask us flat out if it is true.
Despite our enjoyment of spinning yarns, we draw the line at flat out lying. If I’m in the middle of telling a story, and the person to whom I am talking says, “Do you promise?”, or, “Is this true?”, I will tell the actual truth.
Maybe it’s a silly way to do things, I don’t know. But it’s the way that we are.
Telling stories is fun, lying is not.
I’ve been told by some that it is a sign of creativity, that it stems from my affinity for writing stories.
Or that the story-telling comes from all of the yarns I’ve spun.
Which could be true, I suppose.
I think I’m just a liar with a conscience.