Complimentary

I’m vain. I’ll admit it. I enjoy getting compliments, especially if they’re well-intentioned and personal (although I hate people who go fishing for compliments on a regular basis, if you’re having a bad day, go for it, but not all the time). However, I’m not a big fan of “those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable to ladies” a la Mr. Collins. A good compliment can make me feel better when I’m down. For example, this past New Years Eve I was walking down the street and a random guy shouted “you have great legs!” Several months later, it still makes me feel good about myself.

As much as I enjoy hearing these things, I’m terrible at giving compliments. While I’m not a huge fan of Mr. Collin’s type of compliments, I am a pro at giving them. Lost for something to say, I usually go with “great dress!” or “I love those earrings.” I could easily say something like “that dress looks great on you”  or “I love your sense of style” but it never comes out that way nor do I usually compliment someone on their personality, even if it is great. I use superficial compliments to tell those I like that I like them, yet I never actually say anything meaningful.

I first noticed this when I started dating a guy last fall, and he was a little needier in the attention department. He’d say something nice about me and I’d feel the need to respond in turn, but just fumbled around. Did I think he’s cute? Of course! Did I tell him that? Nope. Did I think he was sexy? Yup, but that’s another thing I don’t think I ever said out loud.

Maybe it’s because I’m not good at talking about feelings etc, but I’ve resolved to try to give meaningful compliments. Everyone deserves to feel good about themselves.

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Bunburying. It’s Wilde.

I read The Importance of Being Earnest while in the airport yesterday, and among its many quotable quotes (see below), I came across this one: “well, in the first place girls never marry the man they flirt with” (Act I).  At first this idea seemed absurd, and perhaps it was only meant as humor, but it struck me as holding a certain amount of truth.

A friend of mine works in the public service industry, and one of his clients, a young and pretty (according to him, I’ve never met her) woman, has formed an attachment to said friend.  Although he never told me directly, I can tell that A really likes this girl, but (and this is a big but) she has a boyfriend of four years.  Now, all I know is his side of the story, but apparently, they talk in one way or another every day.  According to A it is always initiated by the client.  He said he knows nothing will ever happen, but at the same time doesn’t end the relationship.

She is clearly flirting with my friend A, but is also supposedly in a committed relationship.  Is she looking to get out of said relationship?  Or is she like the women Algy describes—looking for some excitement outside of her comfortable, probably “suitable,” partner?  Perhaps it’s the relative danger of striking up a more-than-professional-relationship with A when it is clearly against the rules that appeals to the woman.

I don’t know and I probably never will know, as I don’t think I’ll ever meet her, but the similarities between ideal Victorian women and today’s proper (and not-so proper) women intrigued me.

This wasn’t the only quote that applies to men and women of 2011.  I found many others and luckily for me, I read the play on my Kindle could therefore easily highlight and share them with you all.  Here’s a sampling:

Algy: “I really don’t see anything romantic in proposing.  It is very romantic to be in love.  But there is nothing romantic about a definite proposal…The very essence of romance is uncertainty*” (Act I). This pretty much sums up my attitude and is probably why I’m not good at relationships. *my emphasis.

Algy: “Once a week is quite enough to dine with one’s own relations” (Act I). I don’t think this needs explanation.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, but generally, holidays are enough.

Lady Bracknell: “A man should always have an occupation of some kind” (Act I). Nothing is worse than a person who doesn’t have activities or interests of his or her own.  I think it is especially bad when it’s your significant other.  Get those juices (brain, muscle… whatever) flowing!

Algy: “All women become like their mothers.  That is their tragedy.  No man does.  That’s his” (Act I). I started turning into my mother when I was 11 (love you mom, it’s not really a tragedy.  At least not for us).  It’s interesting to think about though, especially the part about men not becoming their mothers.

Cecily: “I think that whenever one has anything unpleasant to say, one should always be quite candid” (Act II). From experience, trying to sugar coat disagreeable things often leads to confusion and then even more awkwardness.  Pretend it’s a band-aid and get it over quickly!

Gwendolen: “One should always have something sensational to read on the train” (Act II). Again, speaking from experience, it is very difficult to concentrate on “literary” stuff on the train.  I need an exciting or dramatic book on the T if it has a chance at beating the cute baby or drunk rapper for my attention.

So there you have it.  And if you haven’t seen the movie, run to Blockbuster or add it to your Netflix queue immediately!

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