A couple of young and slightly deluded boys at a gay bar bought me several drinks and asked me to bless their night together simply because they said I reminded them of Margaret Cho. Now some of you may not think that’s a compliment, but I can assure you, if I had a fraction of her wit and confidence you’d all be fetching me pitchers of vodka tonics in your matching Assmaster t-shirts.
I can prove this one:
I was at a bar in Burnaby BC and a waitress kept staring at me. She finally came up to me and asked if I was Pavel Bure. I said no, but she didn’t believe me and kept staring at me. Hell, I don’t even think I look like the guy nor do I have a Russian accent.
Can’t prove: Picked up a girl when I was in my early 20s and had a fun night. The next morning she said I was like a god in bed. I took that as a good thing.
The professor of my college Shakespeare class told me this: “You write very well for a computer science major.”
Oh, and I also have it on good (but unprovable) authority that I’m, “not as creepy-looking as Willem Defoe.”
About a month ago, a young female friend of mine who’s had some rather rough knocks from life told me, “You’re about the only guy I trust, except for my father and my brother”.
Still glowing over that one.
Most of mine happen at work–it’s the only place I socialize.
On my first job out of the Army, I was talking to the French janitor, when out of the blue, he says, “Bob, you’re the only one who understands.” [he meant something other than language.]
At another place, I had just arrived and was surveying the scene, planning my attack, when one of the bellmen came up and said, “Who are you, REALLY?”
In Hawaii, I go into this public restroom, and notice it has GREAT accoustics, and since I’m the only one in there, I start testing it out to see which frequencies it amplifies best, by singing, “mangwane pupule, hime-ake-pu-la,” in varying tones from low to high. Sounded great, but after a minute or so, I stopped, lest someone come in and catch me. As I’m leaving the restroom, I notice a Hawaiian security guard leaning against the wall at the end of the corridor, and as I go past him, he says, “That was YOU?” He thought there was a group inside.
And most recently, I bid on a better job, and was transferred to a shift where I didn’t know anyone. To get the job, you not only have to do it, but be approved by the supervisor. This department was run by three 30-ish black girls, with ‘attitudes.’ I should mention that my timecard, with my picture preceded me, and my picture was of a blue-eyed white guy in overalls, a full beard, and a goofy expression on my face. I looked like I just came from making moonshine with my inbred mountain relatives.
Anyway, the supervisor and her friends were probably prepared not to like me. After only three days there, the biggest, attitudinest black girl comes up to me and says, “You know, you’re REALLY nice. I just had to say that.” And she went off shaking her head, as if those were words she thought she would never have to say to a white person.
And althought I’m not quite as smart as YOJIMBOGUY, I’m almost a pro at being funny, and I can’t get laid either.
Just remembered another one… a co-worker of mine a few years ago, a girl who I really had a lot of respect for, was talking to me about her relationship with her current boyfriend. They were having some trouble, and she wanted advice. I remember I was talking about my marriage, some trouble my wife and I had gone through in the past, what I did and what my wife did to fix it and go on. I don’t remember exactly what I said that spurred this, but I had finished making a point when the girl looked me straight in the eye, shook her head slowly and said “God… all the good ones really are married aren’t they?”
I took it as a compliment. Especially coming from her.
I was once told that I would make a good yoga teacher.
I used to coach physical education at an elementary school. Two of the kids were offspring of a professional baseball player in the same city. I’m a huge baseball fan, and although this player was mostly a utility player rather than a megastar, I’d always admired his hustle and approach to the game.
One day I ran in to him at a gas station with his son, who introduced us. Before I could say anything, he was pumping my hand and telling me what an honor it was to meet me. He had heard all about me from his kids and was very complimentary. This would have been ego-swelling enough from a “normal” parent, but to get it from one of my favorite players on my favorite baseball team was really surreal.
Also, Danny Devito told me that my two year old daughter was beautiful when I met him in a coffee shop. That makes a father’s head swell with pride. But then, he probably says that to everyone.
Reading through all of these, I have remembered quite a few treasured compliments:
In 6th grade, my home room teacher said I had “the patience of Job”. (As in finishing tasks, attention span, etc.)
When I was about 19, one of my art teachers put up some of my pencil portraits in one of the college’s display cases. One of my friends told me that in his drawing class, the teacher (someone who I admired greatly, but didn’t know personally) told his class that the artist who did those portraits must have been an “older” or advanced artist, because there was a “sensitivity of touch” that he never saw in younger students. This teacher was surprised when my friend told him that yeah, I was only 19.
An artist friend that I admired very much said that a painted plate I made (that she bought) was “hilarious”. (It was a somewhat whimsical portrait of Zorro.) That was a high compliment—she got it! It was supposed to be funny!
One fellow said I had a figure like a “coke bottle” (meaning, an hourglass figure). Very sweet of him. Of course, I have a few more pounds on me now, but I guess that there’s a coke bottle buried under there somewhere. 
After I left Sbarro’s, 4 people quit within the month. Last time I was in the station, I was talking to the manager of the deli, who confirmed that the place is going to hell without me around. “They need you in there Pam. You’re the essence of the store.”