There are only two people that you ever even try to soften the truth for, and he isn't one of them.
You love them; they are your best friends. Your rocks. One kept you going when you were young, and new, and had bruises in various stages of healing all over yourself. That one means pasta and warmth and a loud voice asking what did you do this time, you little asshole? That one means comfort and arms holding you after yet another fight with your father that ended in busted lip or broken arm; that one means comics and Patrick Swayze and being the protector. Keeping away the bullies that would torment and hurt; making sure that they don't beat out his spirit, the way your father has almost beaten yours. He means friend. Forever.
The other, she means light. She means softness and warmth and secret tears in your hair. Smiles and sweetness, all hidden under a WASPy exterior that is worth peeling away to find the layers underneath. She is understanding; the only one who could have saved your ass when you were eighteen and thought that you knew everything about the world, and found out the hard way that you didn't. You don't know how you would have gotten through college without her. She helped you be soft; and she wound up giving you the best gift you could ever have: your son, who you love more than you ever thought you would, or could. Your son who you would gladly die for. For that alone, you would do anything to see that she is safe and happy...even put up with the bitch she married.
But not him. Him, you could care less about. Really. You don't care. So what if he follows you around constantly, and so what if you keep sleeping with him despite your continued resolution not to? Kid has a great ass, and he isn't exactly hard on the eyes either, what with the blond hair and the big blue eyes he has. He's fun; that's it. A diversion when you can't find something better...and if you happen to wind up with him more times than not, well, it only means that pickings are slim. Because you know that you don't care about him. You hurt him on purpose; use the truth to put tears in those big blue eyes of his and show him over and over how little he means to you. And if you pull him back and soothe his hurt, it's only because you aren't your father, dammit, and you don't want to break him, you just want him to go away. But not because you're afraid of him. Not because he means anything. He doesn't. He doesn't mean sunshine and happiness and feeling your stomach drop into your feet and you heart start beating just a little too fast; there is no slight panic in the back of your mind that one day he might get sick of your bullshit and your push/pull and just leave, because you want him to go. You do. You do. You don't care about him. He doesn't mean anything. Not a thing.
And if you repeat it enough; keep that mantra constantly in the back of your mind, it might eventually become the truth.
Your blunt honesty has never actually extended to yourself.