Okay, I posted this in another thread, and it got me thinking.
A former close friend of mine, who is gay, once told me that if there were any woman whom he would consider having sex with, it would be me, because of how well we hit it off together as friends. He said something to the effect of, “You’re so cute, and so much fun, but your bumps are in all the wrong places.” He was being very sincere, and I always took this as a huge compliment, though to this day I am not really sure why.
When I was pregnant with our son, on complete bedrest due to health problems, and gaining weight like crazy, I got very depressed. One night, I was lying on the couch, and started to cry about how fat I was getting (I was picturing myself as an elephant that swallowed a watermelon). He came over, asked me what was wrong, and when I told him how fat and useless I felt, he said “Nonsense! You are doing the most important thing in the world right now, making our baby, and trying to keep it healthy. Nothing else matters, and you’re still the most beautiful woman to me.”
My last boyfriend (who broke my heart, but anyway…) once said, while we were sitting in his car in front of my house, “You are so beautiful.” And then I said “what?” and he said, “I love it when you smile. It makes everything else around you look more beautiful.”
I was so happy when he said that because it was completely unexpected and genuine. I still get weak-kneed when I think about that.
Wow, PurpleBear, I would have passed out if someone said something so beautiful to me! You must have an awesome husband, lucky you!!
I was walking downtown the other day, probably looking a little annoyed, and a pop-can man said hello. I smiled at him, and he said, “You have a beautiful smile. You should use it more often.” I grinned all the way home.
Next up: Twice now total strangers have told me my eyes are an amazing shade of green.
Can you tell I prefer to get compliments from strangers?
A friend of mine who I was never really close to wrote in a yearbook of mine, “You are so damn unique!”. I like hearing stuff like that.
Suo Na- Hi, I’m a stranger. I want you to know that your SDMB name backwards is “Anous” which i suppose would be pronounced “anus”. That’s very cool! Honestly. I’m not being a smart ass. I love it! My name is the sound a suction dfart makes when you pull it off your forehead. Backwards, it’s “pulf” which I guess is roughly the sound one makes when being punched in the stomach. NOt very cool at all.
From a crusty, cantakerous, old coot who had more money than God, a mind like a razor, a gimlet eye and no discernible soft feelings.
He put me through a twitching, stomach-rolling grilling at a Board meeting. Sure that I’d disgraced my agency and humiliated myself personally, death-by-tequila on a remote beach seemed like the only future left.
Damned if the magnificent old coot didn’t walk up to me after the meeting and say, “You have a great heart; lots of guts. As me if you need any help.”–then wheeled and stalked off.
Back when I was a senior in high school, I sang Quando M’en Vo Soletta (sp?) from La Boheme for the state solo and ensemble contest, and received a I, 1 point away from a perfect score, even.
The next year, I went to college and enrolled in private voice lessons. The very first lesson, Dr. Mitchell asked me what I had brought to sing for him, and I pulled out Quando. I sang the song, and after I was finished, he didn’t say anything, just went on to other things. Dr. Mitchell turned out to be quite the hardass, I never once heard him compliment anyone at seminar, not a “good job,” nothing.
So, a year passes, I would have panic attacks prior to going in and singing for him, he was so horrible. My very last lesson arrives. I go in and do my warm-ups, then Dr. Mitchell asks me if I have my copy of Quando with me. I did, and he asked me to sing it again. I do, and after I finish, he says to me, “Finally, you can do that song justice.” I nearly fainted. It still brings tears to my eyes, 3 years later.
Well, I guess the best compliment anyone ever gave me was when my husband and I got married. He commited himself to spending the rest of his life with me, and if that’s not the best comliment ever, I don’t know what is.
When I was in junior high, I knew a girl who had emigrated from Korea. She was kind of homely by American standards, with puffy hair and really bad teeth, but she gave me the best compliment I’ve ever had from anybody.
She asked me what nationality my parents were. I said, “American.” Then she explained that she thought my parents must have been immigrants too, because someone had told her that the first generation child of mixed parentage was always very beautiful.
I hardly knew her – I used to pick up a lot of friends who were misfits like me – but I’ll never forget the most honest and heartfelt compliment I think I’ve ever had. Especially considering that I felt like I was pretty homely myself in junior high.
A girl at a party once told me I had the build of a baseball player. Not sure why, but I thought it was an awesome compliment. We dated for six months . . . in the end I struck out.
When I was in grade 3, we had to keep journals. One girl moved away just before Thanksgiving. She left her journal, and one day when I was feeling really down, the teacher showed me a page from it. “I met a girl named Sandy today. She is really nice and funny.”
I participated in a summer program, where we all had to write in each other’s journal. And one girl thank me for constantly restoring her faith in humanity. I often look at those passages when I’m bummed or down.
