Because these days—as sext-addicted politician Anthony Weiner found out—there’s just no way to get away with it. What does that mean for relationships, and what does it mean for you? Only good things, argues TV host and author Aisha Tyler.
I actually feel sorry for Anthony Weiner. Not because he lost his job in Congress after he tweeted photos of his boxer-clad erection to women who were not his wife, and not because he may lose his bid for mayor of New York City after tweeting photos of his boxer-free erection to other women who were also not his wife1. Not because he has an overinflated sense of his sex appeal, an even more overinflated sense of the appeal of his junk, and the world’s worst impulse control. Not even because of that name2.
No. I feel sorry for him because, through all that frantic sexting—all that career-incinerating, marriage-threatening, life-destroying correspondence—he seems to have thought that even in our high-tech, Wi-Fi world, he could actually get away with it. It’s so gullible it’s almost cute.
Here’s the cold, hard truth, ladies and gentlemen: Our days of deception have officially ended. From mendacious blood doper Lance Armstrong to greedy womanizer Tiger Woods, from hooker-patronizing Eliot Spitzer to penis-parading Anthony Weiner, prominent men—and women (witness the ham-fisted3 cover-up and tumble from grace of one Paula Deen)—are finding it hard to pull a fast one. Even adorable pokes like Justin Bieber and Michael Phelps know that the most “private” homes aren’t safe; everyone’s your best friend till they get a pic of you smoking a bong. Lying. Is. Over.
No more clandestine meetings—your cell phone location is tracked. No more secret sexts; they live on the servers forever. And no more trysts in dark restaurants, where every diner with an iPhone is a potential filmmaker, ready to make you famous. We are triangulated, photographed, cookied, and pinged at every turn—computers know more about us now than we know about ourselves. It’s no longer a question of if you’ll get caught in a lie—it’s a question of when.
And it’s not just high-profile wanker-tweeting politicos who should be scared. A Massachusetts Institute of Technology dean of admissions got her digital desserts when she added three totally nonexistent college degrees to her résumé; MIT officials unearthed the truth, then threw her off campus like a drunken frat boy. And urban lore has it that a New York man busted his cheating wife by installing the Find My Friends app on her iPhone. When she claimed to be leaving a friend’s at one end of Manhattan, the app revealed she was actually stationary at the opposite end of the island4. The modern reality is that no matter who you are, someone’s watching.
It’s time to accept that fibbing is finished. This is a bitter pill to swallow; personally, I have a policy of complete honesty, but honestly? I break it all the time. I hate to lie, but I also hate to cause pain. And being committed to kindness and candor puts my conscience in turmoil. Should I tell a friend her pants make her look like 12 pounds of pudding in a five-pound bag? Or pay her a compliment, sending her out as a muffin-topped tragedy? Often, I take the coward’s way. I’m a wimp.
Frankly, we’re all liars—and about things much more significant. Who hasn’t claimed a bad cell connection to avoid talking to her mother, or called in sick so she could binge-watch Breaking Bad? And scores of us have lied about how many guys we’ve bedded5 or tweaked the truth on a résumé. (Come on. You’re not really fluent in Russian.) But these lies, once so difficult to refute, can now be blown wide with a few key-strokes6. The incredible technology that’s given us the power to curate our personal brands and create Pinterest alter egos whose lives are all dreamy road trips has also given others the power to strip our facades bare, replacing that smart snap of us in a suit toasting a corporate victory with one of us boozily flashing our boobs on spring break.
Now, many of you may be smugly imagining a world free of two-timing boyfriends and dirty-dog spouses. (And yes, that would be awesome.) But while it may feel like guys are doing all the bad stuff, women stray almost as much as men: 19 percent of us cheat on our partners, compared with 23 percent of men. And when it comes to lying in general, the genders are actually tied. Fine, say you don’t do it. Just hope your boss doesn’t stumble across your LinkedIn profile and see your claim to have supervised a project when you were actually printing PowerPoint decks and fetching coffee7. And pray your fiancé doesn’t get a “friend” request from that guy you made out with when you said you were “on a break”—a break apparently only you knew about. No, guys won’t find it as easy to lie. But neither will you.
Before you fling your Android into traffic, consider the idea that transparency could be good: Lying’s exhausting. Even a tiny fib requires energy—the fabrications avalanche in an attempt to cover the first one8. And often the lie is worse than the crime. So long as you’re not intentionally hurting anyone, your stumbles will make you seem human. Because while we’re a judgmental culture, we’re also forgiving—America loves a comeback. Apologize and we’re right there with you, ready to move on. (We even forgive liars: Just ask notorious stomp-around Tiger, now dating Olympic skier Lindsey Vonn.) But for those who do persist in cheating, stealing, and manipulating without compunction or regret, your day of reckoning is at hand. (Cue evil laughter.)
So here’s my radical suggestion: Tell the truth. All the time. It may be painful at first, even foreign. But with all the evidence out there in the ether, honesty has never been a better policy. There’s no story to keep straight, no fake details to remember. Don’t “massage” your résumé. Just admit to a future employer that you left college to bum around Europe with an Italian trumpet player. Explain what you learned about yourself, or just admit it was an insanely good time. They’ll find out anyway.
Remember the feeling you had when you were a kid and you finally told the truth about breaking that window—that feeling of relief ? You can have that feeling forever now, because lying’s become so futile.
There, then, was Weiner’s most grievous mistake: not the cheating, not the tweeting, not even betraying his wife. Those things were awful, yes. Repulsive, even. But his ultimate crime was lying about it all, knowing full well that the digital evidence, an Everest of contradictions, was stacked against him. If he had just told the truth—yes, I’m a pervert; yes, I need help; yes, I like to take creepy pictures of my man parts—we might have followed his wife’s lead and forgiven him, pitied him, and moved on9.
But instead Weiner lied when, deep down, he knew he’d be caught—that the Internet, and the world, already had him by the short hairs10. And that, in our brave new information age, is the greatest crime of all.
Actor and comedian Aisha Tyler is a cohost of CBS’s The Talk. Her second book, Self-Inflicted Wounds: Heartwarming Tales of Epic Humiliation, hit the best-seller list this summer.
1Ever heard the old adage “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?” Apparently Weiner hasn’t.
2The only less fortunate name I can think of is...I can’t think of one.
3Pun totally intended.
4Well, kind of stationary. Ba-dump bump.
5Yes, that one time while studying abroad in Spain does count.
6Thanks for nothing, Google.
7To be fair, they were excellent decks and delicious coffee.
8You know, “tangled web” and all.
9I mean, I’m not voting for the guy or anything. But you know.
10Don’t judge me. Saying this was irresistible. I am only human.
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