Pravda, or would YOU want to know?

I was browsing through Facebook this morning when I came across a wedding anniversary announcement from someone I knew a long, long time ago. 

25 years of bliss and happiness! it announced. I stared at the photo, memories flooding in. 

The truth is, I know for a fact that marriage is not quite as blissful as you’d expect a blissful marriage to be. I know for a fact because I know something about the husband. 

The funny thing about truth is that it hits people suddenly, uninvited, unexpected, from some unpredictable source. 

I was thinking, looking at the couple’s happy smiling faces, that maybe they are happy now. That is possible, right? So what that many years ago the husband, a very quiet skinny dude, hung out with a hooker in Baku, and accidentally, I just happened to know the girl. I had, you see, met her in a sauna literally few weeks before then, in a hotel spa, where I had commented, in my unorthodox style, how beautiful her breasts were. She liked that, we introduced ourselves, I then ran into her in a bar, we said hello…and just at that moment, imagine the luck, this skinny dude friend of mine came to the bar to buy a drink. She said hi and stuck her beautiful breasts at him. He pretended he didn’t notice and scurried off. She smiled and said to me, with simplicity and openness only hookers possess: this one was so generous. 

Whoa! I know, right? Imagine the chances of that. It happened so long ago, in Baku days, and I didn’t tell anyone in our circle of friends. And I guess, till now, the wife is blissfully unaware. 

As they say, what you don’t know can’t hurt you.

Do we actually want to know the truth, is what I am wondering? Would you want to know?

Years ago, I thought yes. Definitely yes. For me, I always preferred the truth. But as I grow older, I wonder if that’s such a good idea. Look at this couple. What if I had told someone?

A colleague of mine was chatting with me the other day when he suddenly announced that I looked different after my procedure. In what way, I asked. “Older” he happily replied. 

Go back to your effin' desk, I said, and stay there. Did I want to hear I looked older, or more tired, or whatever it was? No. Something so small, just a light-hearted comment, really upset me that day. I came home and didn’t even want to look in the mirror. 

Just imagine, I was thinking to myself, how depressing life would be, if we all knew the truth about what is going on around us? And if we only told the truth to each other? 

How many of those radiant Facebook smiles would fade! But here’s the thing… Most of the time, we do know, we would know, if we wanted to. We just don’t want to. 

I know that I don’t look my best right now. It is natural and expected after what happened. Trust me, I know because nobody knows better than me what's wrong with me. 

I also know when I put some weight on, or when my roots are starting to show and need touching up. I know! And don’t need you to tell me. 

If I am feeling down, I know I am. I don’t need you telling me I look miserable. If I have a badly behaving spoiled brat of a child, trust me, nobody else is more aware of that than me. If I have marital issues, I will be more aware of them than any of you, because I am a woman and I know these things. Every woman, however well she hides it, knows, with this gut instinct we all have, when she isn’t really in a blissful relationship. And if she chooses not to see things, it is because she chose not to. Not because she is blind or stupid. Maybe she is just very smart. Or maybe just weak. Whatever her reasons are, she chose not to know. 

You became very Western, an old friend told me recently when we were once again having a fight about something insensitive she had said to me. You just want me to say nice things you want to hear. And not the truth. And that’s what real friends do, tell the truth. I don’t know, I said, maybe. But why do you feel the need to tell me something unpleasant? And don’t you think I already probably know it?

As my friend, protect me. This life is already difficult and can be painful. Protect my feelings by saying I look pretty today. So what if I look like shit. Just lie. Support me with my diet by saying I look slimmer already, even if I had only skipped one toast at breakfast. Tell me I will be fine even if you think I probably won’t be. That’s what I want. More innocent lies. And as for truth….stick it where the sun don’t shine.