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Radical Honesty Movement…an interesting approach to what’s considered deceptively acceptable. “He says everybody would be happier if we just stopped lying. Tell the truth, all the time…It’s the only path to authentic relationships.” -Brad Blanton via A.J. Jacobs [Esquire magazine]

This morning, Angela Evans invited me to join the Facebook group she created called “Radical Honesty, at least for a week. (we can do that, can’t we?)”

Based off A.J. Jacobs’ (who is a hilarious writer–also check out his book The Know-It-All) feature story chronicling his experiment in living a blatantly honest life, Ange is encouraging her friends to try it for simply one week. The concept is simple, yet fascinating, and Jacobs’ story is captivating and funny.

In this Facebook group, we are to share our personal anecdotes in our weeklong experiment in Radical Honesty. Think Fletcher Reed in Liar Liar (one of my favorite movies). You can’t even lie about the color of the pen that you hold in your hand! Rrrrroyal blue!

I’ll be honest, I try to be straightforward with people a lot of the time, and I know a lot of you do as well–but I definitely can be an avoider. Rejected phone calls, excuses, straight up bullshit…often we “lie” to conserve people’s feelings, but reading Jacobs’ story made me think about how much more freeing life and our relationships can be if you take off the filter and keep it real.

I agree with Angela that the concept is interesting and can be revealing–certainly opening new channels of communication and connecting with others. I will do this for the next week and blog about my misadventures. I invite you to tune in and try it as well–see what develops! And join the group if you’re so inclined. Thanks, Angela.

The original (hysterical) Esquire story, “I Think You’re Fat,” is here.

And here’s an excerpt:

The next day, we get a visit from my wife’s dad and stepmom.

“Did you get the birthday gift I sent you?” asks her stepmom.

“Uh-huh,” I say.

She sent me a gift certificate to Saks Fifth Avenue.

“And? Did you like it?”

“Not really. I don’t like gift certificates. It’s like you’re giving me an errand to run.”

“Well, uh . . .”

Once again, I felt the thrill of inappropriate candor. And I felt something else, too. The paradoxical joy of being free from choice. I had no choice but to tell the truth. I didn’t have to rack my brain figuring out how to hedge it, spin it, massage it.

“Just being honest,” I shrug. Nice touch, I decide; helps take the edge off. She’s got a thick skin. She’ll be okay. And I’ll tell you this: I’ll never get a damn gift certificate from her again.

…

A life of radical honesty is filled with a hundred confrontations every day. Small, but they’re relentless.

“Yes, I’ll come to your office, but I resent you for making me travel.”

“My boss said I should invite you to this meeting, although it wouldn’t have occurred to me to do so.”

“I have nothing else to say to you. I have run out of conversation.”

My wife tells me a story about switching operating systems on her computer. In the middle, I have to go help our son with something, then forget to come back.

“Do you want to hear the end of the story or not?” she asks.

“Well…is there a payoff?”

“Fuck you.”