My father died in 2012, when I was 44 and he was 66. The week of his funeral, his former girlfriend Angie, whom I hadn’t spoken to since 1972, called me at my paternal grandmother’s house to offer her condolences. We were talking a while, catching up, when she started laughing. “Oh, Cindy,” she said, “when you were little, you said everything that was on your mind at that very moment.” I started laughing. “Nothing’s changed,” I said. “I’m just older. Every day is a challenge to keep my mouth shut.”

I appreciated Angie’s comment. It was cool to gain insight into my behavior as a kid, since I only had my family’s perspective and my memories. Also, Angie reaffirmed what I had always suspected — I was born spouting the truth with little awareness of the consequences.

My father once told me, “You couldn’t be more like me if you tried.” I liked that my big honest mouth might have come from him. He was the kind of honest that only a tolerant, easy-going person might appreciate. And, although I’m sure he had to have told some lies sometime during his life, I remember him as always being brutally honest. If you wanted flattery, my father was not the man to talk to.

I often wonder where this compulsion to tell the truth comes from — Some of it, I blame on the catholic church with its confession obsession. My father attended catholic school, and so did I. And as long as I can remember, I’ve never been able to keep a poker face and bluff. I’ve heard some people say things like, “I don’t have time for bullshit.” That resonates with me. It takes a lot of time and energy to be fake and a lot less time to be honest.

Part of me likes to believe my father and I never lost the childlike innocence that leads someone to tell the truth, even if it’s brutal. One time, my father lost a customer at his shoe repair shop because I stood beside him while he was ringing her out, and said, “Daddy. That lady has green teeth.” I love that he didn’t punish me.

My father always said, “Believe half of what you see and none of what you hear.” As I came of age, instead of following his advice, I saw him as intensely cynical and lacking trust. I had no idea about wisdom and learning from experience, and I projected my honesty onto others–thinking that everyone around me told the truth. Hah!

One of my favorite lines from an episode of Friends is when Phoebe says, “People will believe anything as long as it’s complimentary.” Although I’ve always seen that as a half-joke, a recent issue of Harvard Business Review includes an article, “How to Negotiate with a Liar,” by Leslie K. John. She says, “Humans are particularly inept at recognizing lies that are cloaked in flattery.” Insert here, the fable “The Fox and the Crow” where the fox, seeing a hunk of cheese in the crow’s mouth tells her what a lovely singing voice she has. The crow caws and the fox catches the cheese in its mouth. Liar!

When I was 16 and fell in love for the first time, the boy I liked said, “I’m really attracted to you and want to be with you. I’m just not a commitment kind of guy.” So, I let him have his way with me, repeatedly. Imagine my dismay when he showed up in my independent study class sitting next to one of the girls from the popular clique. I learned later that day that they were exclusive. And it’s not only teenage boys who tell that lie. I fell for the same lie from a 40 year old man. What he should have said was, “I don’t want a commitment with you.”

Back in 1987, when I dated my first pathological liar, his untruths piled up like so many of our household bills I ended up paying. “Scott” was highly skilled in lying, having been severely abused by numerous stepfathers as a boy, spending time in a boys’ home, dealing drugs, etc. The day I realized I had wasted 18 months of my life with this selfish, demented jackass, I rode the city bus to downtown Binghamton, walked into the U.S. Armed Forces Recruiting Station and enlisted in the navy.

Detecting a liar is difficult for most people, myself included. According to Leslie John, a reputable study shows that regular people tell one to two lies per day. If that’s the average, imagine the sociopaths we come into contact with and the whoppers they tell! If only the Pinocchio nose were a real thing, none of us would ever have to wonder if someone was telling us the truth. Moving forward, I will continue to be honest, and to work toward being as diplomatic as my friend Hailey, and to trust my gut. They say flattery will get you everywhere. As long as what you tell me is really what you believe, I will believe you.