Over the years, I’ve received a lot of odd compliments. Some people might call them ‘backwards compliments,’ and others might call them a reasonable defense for aggravated assault, but I just think they’re funny (not funny ha-ha, more like “Oh you think that’s funny, motherfucker?”).
Two days ago, I was walking out of a grocery store. Now that’s not the whole story, it’s just the beginning, but already it has you thinking: What grocery store? What did she buy? What was she wearing? Was her head engulfed in a fiery cloud of locusts? Did she have all her limbs? (The answers are Red Apple, lunch, work clothes, no, and yes, this time.)
As I waited to cross the street, I had the distinct feeling I was being watched. I looked to my right and there was an old black man (double Morgan Freeman’s age, that’s how old he was) just staring at me. No blinking. No smile. Just two eyes beneath a worn-out fedora, boring holes into my face. I had to break the ice.
“Hey,” I said, eyebrows raised to convey this message: ‘What the hell, old man?’
“Girlie,” he replied with a drawl, “He made you just the way I like ‘em.”
I looked back at him and said, “Like a linebacker?”
He scoffed. “I ain’t gay!” he said, waving a dismissive hand at me like I was the ridiculous one.
I wish I had asked what he meant specifically. He likes adopted Samoan women? Girls with a high BMI turn him on? He has a thing for flat brown feet? I guess I’ll never know.
Other things that were said to me in a complimentary fashion:
“He said you’re real pretty in the face area.” My body area was insulted by that one, but my face area took a victory lap.
“I’m glad you’re not one of those model types.” Said to me by the male model I was sleeping with at the time. Any compliment that begins with “I’m glad you’re not” and ends with “the type of girl who gets paid to look good” isn’t really a compliment. I’m glad you’re not tall and thin and pretty! I was worried you might be gorgeous.