Implicit Compliments

I don’t like compliments. As you might guess, this makes me immensely popular. I don’t really like giving them or receiving them. I just don’t like them.

A variety of negative character traits converge to make me dislike compliments. I’m lazy, so I don’t like giving compliments. Instead, I want people to interpret my actions as compliments. If I want to be around you, I think you’re worth being around. I want my presence to implicitly convey the compliment. The fact is I’m not polite enough to show up to your party or invite you to do something if I don’t think you’re worthwhile. I don’t expect you to be honored by my presence or anything so grand, I just want you to realize that my regard for you is dictating my actions. Which, to me, is better than me saying you’re fun or cute or smart. Anyone can say those things without them being true. But I’m not going to have a conversation with you if I don’t think you’re interesting, and I’m not going to ask you out if I don’t think you’re attractive. I think it’s kind of redundant to verbalize those facts.

I don’t want you to have to verbalize your esteem for me either. If you think I’m funny, you should talk to me more, not tell me I’m funny. If you like my lesson, you should come next time I teach. (By the way, I’ve yet to come up with a good response to “you’re funny.” It seems like it requires a joke as a response, which then seems like a challenge, which then doesn’t seem very friendly.) By labeling our interactions with compliments, you’re really removing the tact.

I’m the only one that feels this way, I realize this. Me and telepathic robots. And I’m not saying that my way is better; in fact I know that it’s not. But it’s the way my mind works, so I thought a disclaimer would be valuable. If we’re spending time together, and you’re not a patient of mine, it’s because I consider you smart and/or fun and/or beautiful. Feel complimented.