The real you comes out in instalments, and that is sequencing rather than dishonesty. Nobody hands over the entire file in week one.
But instalments stall. There is often a fact sitting a few years past its natural moment: the estrangement, the debt, the diagnosis, the ambition that sounds ridiculous said out loud.
It doesn't need a scene. It usually goes best delivered flatly, mid-task, while chopping something. People worth telling tend to receive it far more calmly than the rehearsals in your head suggested they would.