Compliments are fun. When a person gives you a compliment, he or she is giving you a gift—and you can do whatever you want with it. You might just want to take it at face value: “My hair looks good today!” But perhaps you feel like adding drama to your life: “He likes my hair—he likes ME!” Or maybe you’re feeling a bit bored and downtrodden, and want to interpret this compliment to mean, “Everyone wants to be my friend so that I can bring all my Pantene glory into their dull and lifeless profile pictures!” It truly is your call… and no one has to know.
But sometimes compliments aren’t genuine. Sometimes semi-canned compliments come from creepers who think their clichéd one-liners will leave you swooning, when really you just feel like buying a fuzzy oversized bathrobe and crawling inside it never to be viewed as an object of attraction again. Many a time even a non-creeper will give you a compliment that reeks of insincerity—anyone can be guilty of handing those out. You’re dressed up for some occasion and before you’ve even had a chance to notice who you’re talking to, they’ve said, “You look great, I love your dress!” and you hear yourself saying, “Oh my gosh, I love yours!!” …Well, shit.
So I like compliments. I just don’t like insincere compliments. And neither, I am guessing, do you, because being flattered is only fun if, for at least a second, you truly believe what the complimenter is telling you… “I really am witty, aren’t I?”
So next time you’re faced with a creeper, or worse, some chick with a painted on smile that gives you a less-than-genuine compliment, THIS is how you respond:
Option 1: “I never knew… that you loved me.” (Stares into soul.)
Option 2: “Thanks! For more, you can follow me on Twitter at @blanketyblank”
Option 3: “I knew you were going to say that. I saw it in a dream.”
Option 4: “I’ve never felt so close to you. I’ve never felt so close to… anyone.” (Option 4 to be accompanied by crying and a desperate, blind clutching of the complimenter.)
These are four excellent options for a your response—or you can think of your own, you witty thing, you! Part of me feels bad for the unsuspecting complimenters that will be on the receiving end of these responses. But a larger part of me wants you to actually try these things… and to let me know how it goes.
In the meantime, know that I think you’re swell. I’m not sure who you are, so I can’t offer a more case-specific compliment at the moment, but I do know that you’re reading this so… in my book, which apparently was written by someone who sounds like your grandfather, that makes you pretty swell.
