Why Compliments Are A Man’s Kryptonite
Adulthood has taught me two indisputable tenets about women
1. Most women possess a ton of unnecessary sh*t.
Some of this sh*t is somewhat practical (layers of expired coupons, Thai cook books, etc), some is understandable (dozens of bottles of overpriced oils and lotions and sh*t all doing the exact same f*cking thing, pictures of Santonio Holmes’ wang, etc), and some is so hilariously frivolous that you start to wonder if they rob Tuesday Mornings in their spare time (pink couch pillows with the names of the entire cast of Grey’s Anatomy monogrammed in Arial Narrow, candles with scents like “depression mahogany” and “Oprah at night,” etc).
2. If you ever happen to be somewhere where your girlfriend is going to meet up with a few of her girlfriends, be prepared to witness an extended period of compliment cunnilingus when they see each other.
Now, it’s possible that all women don’t do this and that the women in my sphere of influence are just a little nicer than most others. But, from a completely anecdotal perspective, it seems like women are completely unable to see each other without devoting the first 10 to 25 minutes of their conversations to complimenting each other about anything.
Yes. Anything. Seriously, it’s really not that far-fetched to overhear some sh*t like “Wow, Jane. Ever since that pitbull bit off your nose, I couldn’t help to notice how pretty your eyes are. I’m so jealous. I’d definitely let a pit bull bite off my nose and eat my nephew if I could have eyes like that!”
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Anyway, I’m bringing this up because of a statement Lady Champ made a few days ago. (
Actually, it was more of smart-aleck tease than a statement. But, for the sake of the discussion, it’ll stay a statement today.) She made notice of the fact
that I have a tendency to turn into a slobbering bastard when a woman other than my mom gives me a compliment, and she followed that by saying that most men are the exact same way.
My initial reaction was to dispute this, but then I remembered that just that day I got all verklempt when I accidentally overheard a Starbucks barista matter-of-factly say “…see, I’d definitely date him. But, black guys like that don’t like me.” to another barista. Never mind the fact that she didn’t actually say it to me, and never mind that I had no idea what a “black guy like me” actually was, she gave me an indirect compliment and I almost choked on my orange juice when hearing it.
Why did this affect me so? Well, the answer comes from that barista. You see, although she complimented me…she didn’t give me the compliment. She didn’t just come out and say “Hey, young black sir, I think you’re attractive and I wouldn’t mind sharing a cinnamon rice cake with you” because, well, women very, very, very rarely give direct compliments to random men.
If fact, not only do men rarely hear compliments from random women, most of us rarely hear compliments from women we’re actually sleeping with. Seriously, aside from the usual mid-coital kudos (ie: “Your d*ck is on some American Airways sh*t tonight, baby! Damn! You got the magic motherf*ckin touch”), most men reading this can probably count the number of compliments their girlfriend has given them on one hand.
When you combine this with the fact that you’re probably going to see Casey Anthony giving the headline speech at a CYS conference before you see the majority of men freely, easily, and directly complimenting other men, you understand why the compliment is a man’s kryptonite — the one thing that can turn goons to goo and thugs to ticklish teddy bears.
Now, it’s completely understandable why women — most of whom are quick to compliment each other about anything, remember — are reluctant to freely compliment men. Something as innocent as “Hey, you always have the nicest pencils.” could (and probably would) be interpreted by most men as “Hey, I have some space in my vagina that I need for you to fill.”
But, maybe that leap is due to the fact that we just aren’t used to hearing them and don’t know how to react when we do. Maybe more experience with receiving them would stop us from automatically thinking “She wants my meatloaf” whenever a woman says something nice to us, and maybe we’d be nicer people. Maybe “more female to male compliments” would = “less crime.” Who knows?
I do know, though, that I’m officially “not allowed” (Ha!) in that Starbucks anymore. Moral of the story, ladies? Be careful. More female to male compliments just might get you cut.