I have had epic crushes. These crushes of mine, as many girls might know, were characterized by a disproportionate amount of time spent thinking about a particular boy. All of these epochal crushes resulted, sooner or later, in the boy discovering the dramatic secret. But they were never informed through the grapevine, oh no. Rather, the messenger was me, face-to-face and heart all aflutter every time. Indeed, even after the huge heart-wrenching feelings had faded, I always resolved to express my feelings. It seemed the right thing to do, really; I was always convinced that he deserved to know the real story, considering it ultimately had everything to do with him. That habit of mine was one of the consequences of my deep belief in honesty.

Back in those days, honesty was crystal clear. It was unique for being simultaneously mature and simple: one told either the entire story or not the entire story. I believe in open communication and no lying, in being frank and avoiding “hints.” But honesty also comes into our expression of opinions about others, and these days the nuances of this side are creeping slowly into focus. Honesty will always be my best policy, but the fine print beckons. When is “just being honest” an excuse for self-promotion? When does it just entangle others’ lives? When is it just plain selfish?

These are the questions that began haunting me recently, after I ignited a bomb of a discussion with someone I care very much about by conveying a few…honest things. I told her my opinion on specific events of late. I told her about certain characteristics I saw in her that I didn’t think that she herself realized. I told her how these things were affecting me. Well, it wasn’t all frill and fancy, and both of us were significantly affected. During and immediately after that talk, reaching back to my motives for starting it, my justification was that I could somehow help her by revealing these thoughts of mine. Having more time between the event and me, though, shows me differently. I had translated many of the beliefs that had been forming in my head these past few years and had laid them on the table. I’m realizing now that she didn’t need to hear all of them, and what she heard hurt her in a way I didn’t expect. Neither of us regrets the conversation, even if we regret the execution; it’s funny how I’ve known her all of my life, and still we learned years’ worth of things about each other in that hour. But it taught me something about my need for what might be called full disclosure. When I think of my motives now, I wonder if there was more self-interest involved in getting my seemingly smart opinion out than I wanted to admit.

Over time, I’ve become very aware of my high regard for my own opinion relative to others’. I used to bristle frequently at recommendations, suggestions and other arbitrary things I insecurely regarded as condescension. Apparently, I much preferred to let my voice loose at the expense of anyone else’s contribution. But it’s caused so many unnecessary complications. Sometimes I think we’re too confident in our own understanding of other people, who they are and what’s best for them. Then we let these ideas spiral right out into the world and out of our control. In a sense, it’s being honest. In another sense, it’s being irresponsible. And beyond that, it’s an assumption that we’re legitimate enough to make such calls on another person’s life, even if we qualify ourselves with, “Well, I think she’s…” or “No offense, but…”

Once upon a time, we were kids who said all sorts of crazy things we didn’t think mattered beyond the playground. By now, we’ve accumulated a lot more stuff in our heads that tend to persuade us exactly the opposite. I’ve been realizing how much damage our words can do, especially because, despite being honest, they’re too easily misplaced, one-sided and insensitive to our listener’s ears. Most importantly, they’re too easily used for self-glorifying purposes that have little to do with our listener anyway.

I’m all for honesty, no less than before. But now I’m just starting to see where the need for wisdom kicks in.

Hopefully you don’t find this column too ironic for a columnist. If you do (or if you don’t), Nina wants to hear you! Email her at ninamc “at” stanford “dot” edu.