Beating a Dead Horse. Or Horsing a Dead Beat. I Can't Decide.

I've said it a million times. Maybe more. I've said it in text, I've said it in tears, I've said it in sotto voce, I've said it in raging, wracking sobs. I've said it to children, to friends, to lovers, to strangers. And now I'm going to say it again.

If you love me, love me enough to be honest with me. If you know I love you, trust me to love you no matter what. Love me and love yourself enough to be true. And for the love of all that's Holy, don't tell me that you love me if you're not willing to TRUST ME with WHO YOU ARE.

Because if there is one thing I've learned in my life, it's that I can forgive all hurts - generally because I realize that I can't control anyone but myself and we are all human. I can forgive all actions except the ones that are DELIBERATE, CONSCIOUS choices to INFLICT SUFFERING. Like lying. Even worse is saying, "I love you, I would never lie to you, I would never put you in that position" while DOING JUST THAT. That's a CHOICE. That's not a reflex, or a biological demand, or even a rationalization. That's a conscious choice, a fully realized invocation of malice.

Not to mention, it assumes that the person on the receiving end of the deceit is a schmuck. It also assumes that the liar is so confident in his or her ability to deceive that he or she doesn't realize that there's no hiding the outward signs of a forked tongue: inappropriate pauses in conversation (while the liar tries to remember which lie was told to which schmuck), furtive glances, large chunks of time unaccounted for, the vague answers to specific questions, and the tell-tale but barely perceptible roll of the eyes while accessing information stored as "false" in the brain. I've met a LOT of liars in my time... but very, very few good ones. And even the good ones can't hide the physiological aspects of lying. The only ones who can are the absolute pathological ones - and they don't really "lie" in the traditional sense.

And I'll take full responsbility for being blind, deaf, and dumb when I love someone. I'm not poised for lies, I'm not looking for deceit, the last thing I EVER want to know about someone I love is that they respect me so little and have so little faith in my love that they will lie to me. Even I can't be in denial forever. Even I will pick up on the signs sooner or later. Even I, this poor, dutiful schmuck, will know where I stand at one point or another. And God help me, it usually doesn't take very long to know, without a doubt, that a person who purports to love me in one breath will prove in the next that he/she doesn't respect me, my love, or my abilities enough to just tell the fucking truth.

Or to tell me it's none of my business. Because in most cases, that's true. And at least it's an honest response.

And just once, I'd like to be at least as important as a loved one's sudden, human, perhaps shameful desire. Just once, I'd like to be valued enough, respected enough, loved enough to be trusted with the truth, no matter how shameful and no matter how hurtful. Just once, I'd like a loved one to remember that if a thing is important enough to do, it's important enough to take responsibility for. Not to mention take a moment to think, "If I'm about to do something I'm gonna feel the need to lie to Daughter about, maybe I shouldn't do it." Just once, I'd like a loved one to think,"Daughter's respect for me is more important that my penis/poor self esteem/pathological need for conquest/drinking habit/party pals/crazy ex-wife who hates me/need for validation from outside sources." Just once, I'd like to be more important than shame.

Because shame is transient, but I'll love my loved ones no matter what. But respect? I'm afraid that's hard-won and easy-lost.