Writing Dishonestly About Your Life

On emotional truth vs factual truth in personal stories

Me (with watch) and some newfound writer friends at the dancefloor of a local Reykjavik bar. Joining the is totally worth full of great memories! Photo provided by Author.

“You told me I looked ugly.”

We met by chance. I was attending ; she was on vacation with her husband, who’d fallen slightly ill and decided to hole up in their hotel room. We were nibbling on a relatively less expensive brunch at Sandholt, in downtown Reykjavík. This was our first time speaking, three years after our relationship ended.

“I never said that,” I was confused. “I would never use that word to describe you.”

“It was the night of your best friend’s gallery opening,” she insisted. “I wore that green dress I’d been working on. You looked at me and said I looked ugly.”

I remembered that night. Her excitement about the dress, my impatience as we were running late, the tension between us in our apartment.

“I remember saying something about the dress not making you look confident,” I said.

“That’s not how I remember it.”

I was sure I never used the word “ugly” on her. First, I wouldn’t date someone I’d call ugly. But more importantly, I would never use a word like that on someone with appearance anxiety, as she had. I explained all of this to her.