I’m the world’s worst liar. I know this because people tell me so. Also because any lie I attempt winds up resulting in apologies, laughter, and me losing my balance and falling down — not necessarily in that order.

I used to think my ineptitude at deceit was due to the fact that the people around me were so brilliant — they could sniff out untruths and see through any attempts at mendacity. But then I realized what was really going on: I’m completely transparent, so much so that a 4-year-old can tell what I’m thinking. And a few weeks ago, one did: “Mommy, that lady in line behind us is mad that you’re paying for my sandwich in dimes and nickels.” (Ok she might not have been quite so exact, but she did discern that I was pissed).

Being full-scale transparent can cause problems in daily life. As in situations like the following:

“So I invited Drew to dinner with us. He was hinting he wanted to see you.”

“Oh! Great! Sure! That’s great.”

“Liar. You don’t think he’s smart.”

“What are you talking about! Why would I not think he’s smart? He’s totally smart. I mean, in as much as someone can tell that someone is smart just from one dinner party–”

“Please. I saw your face when he was telling that story about how he puked on the waiter’s shoes at Jean Georges. You think he’s a total dumbass.”

Crap.

The thing is, I’m not sure I mind being an atrocious liar. Sure, it comes in handy sometimes — and let’s face it, on the average day, every living human tells at least one lie (”Did you get that email I sent?” “Absolutely — I’m reading it as we speak”). But I’m wary of building the skills it takes to be good at it — guile, flippancy, a narcissistic view that your lies won’t harm anyone else (or, worse, a callousness as to whether they do), a lack of respect for the truth, and most of all, the ability to “bend” the truth around what you want it to be.

Since, when it comes down to it, the key to being a wonderful liar is being able to lie convincingly to yourself.

So for now, I’ll stick with being a shitty liar. Plus, not having the option takes the pressure off: I’m not gonna get away with lying, so I may as well just tell the truth.