When someone lies to you, they've actually given you, quite directly, a lot of truth.

In my line of work, I come across lies and recipients of lies. It's the nature of divorce. And when any particular lie comes through my door, it's invariably accompanied by these words, expelled in exasperation.

"I don't know what to believe."

Sure you do. When someone lies to you, they are saying two things loud and clear.

That's not to say that every question must be answered. Questions are by nature hostile, intrusive. "What's your home phone number?" "How much money do you make in a year?" If you don't want to share that information, don't answer the question.

But if you answer with false information, you are, in effect, saying, "I don't want to deal with your reaction to me. But I'd still like to go forward with the dialogue." Yeah, only now, deceptively. A weak person's preferred method of wresting control here.

Mind you, there are reasons to take this approach, of course. A robber asks for my home address at gunpoint, and I'm happy to admit here that I'm in a weak position and that lying as a means to get him to leave apparently satisfied has it's appeal.

I also have no desire to be intimate with him. As I said, you can't lie and be intimate.

Here's "intimate," according to my Webster's.

"1 b: belonging to or characterizing one's deepest nature; 2: marked by close association, contact, or familiarity; 3 a: marked by a warm friendship developing through long association; b: suggesting informal warmth or privacy; 4: of a very personal or private nature."

Intimacy is obviously a risk. That's why I'm not intimate with everyone, and why intimacy is a precious gift if I have it with you. But you ain't intimate and never can be when you choose to lie to me.

And your lie has honestly made your intentions objectively clear.