Once upon a time, I dated a girl. She was quite attractive, despite the fact that I have since decided she was most assuredly the spawn of Satan.
At the time, men were constantly drooling over her and showering her with compliments of how attractive she was. One day while spending an afternoon together talking, she said something to me that I thought was very telling and which I have remembered to this day.
“I hate it when people tell me I’m pretty.”
Confused, I questioned why on earth she would refuse a compliment such as that.
“It’s just such a stupid compliment. ‘You’re pretty.’ It’s what you tell someone when you can’t think of anything else to say about them.”
As much as I hate to say it, Spawn of Satan had a point. When I looked at it that way, it really was kind of a hollow compliment, especially since it was so often cast about by men who were only interested in outward appearances and physical entanglements.
And yet I couldn’t help but feel like I was also one of those shallow men. Heck, I’m STILL one of those shallow men. Looks matter to me, and I was dating this girl in part, because she WAS pretty. It had been the first thing I noticed about her. It wasn’t the only reason why I liked her (hey, I’m not COMPLETELY shallow), but I couldn’t deny the fact that if she hadn’t been so pretty, chances are I wouldn’t have asked her out in the first place.
And so I resolved that I would try to compliment her on other more profound matters. I would prove to both of us that I didn’t just want her for her looks, and she would see how different and non-shallow I was compared to all the other men chasing her. I resolved not to call her “pretty.”
Oddly enough, she dumped me just a short time later. Girls…they’ll really mess with your head.
Pings & Trackbacks ¬