February 16, 2012

MS. BLUE and SAM SHARPE

Last week I told you all that my extra extroverted alter ego Ms. Bold Blue came out to roll up on a crazy sexy gentleman at Starbucks one morning. As is usually the case when she shows up I lose my righteous mind I’m liable to say almost anything to the man who caught her eye. From what I recall, when my I noticed Mr.-Don-Draper-has-nothing-on-me in line behind me my breath caught in my throat as I took him in. Then as we both waited for our orders it was all I could do to break the gaze. Of course, he eventually noticed my staring (but how could he not when drool was literally running down my chin?) and smiled. And that’s when Ms. Bold Blue kicked things in to high gear…

BB: Hi. I just have to say you’re an incredibly beautiful man.

Him: Uhhhm (face begins to redden)…Thanks (politely extends hand). Mike, you are?

BB: (noting the firmness of his handshake while wondering what it would feel like to have his strong hands on her body, and genuinely shocked by the blushing) Ms. Blue. Are you blushing, sir? Come on now, you must get compliments like that all the time.

Him: (face now a deep tomato red as he looks down at his feet) No, can’t say I do.

BB: Then clearly there are a whole lot of people around here who can’t see.

Him: (grins, as redness starts to fade) Obviously.

A few moments later I was back on the street munching on my breakfast sandwich as Ms. Bold Blue cooled her jets, and reviewing my interaction with the man who would be the reason I masturbated for the next few days Mike in my mind. Still amazed by the fact that someone as delicious as he was would be embarrassed by a compliment from a woman, I dialed Mr. Sharpe to share the story.

His reaction? Basically (and I’m paraphrasing here)

“I guarantee you that that dude, as good looking as you’re telling me he is, DOESN’T get compliments from women all the time. You women fail at that.”

As a woman whose body – particularly my brain and mouth – is taken over virtually every time really fine man comes into my orbit, those were almost fighting words. I didn’t want to believe that women aren’t letting all the men out there who are working hard to maintain their sexy know that it’s working for them. But as Sam ran through his body of evidence I thought about how flattered (and amazed) many of the men Ms. Bold Blue previously encountered had been. It was then I realized that maybe he was right to brand me as an outlier, an anomaly, or a freak of nature when it comes to complimenting men.

Now assuming, Sam’s theory and my memory of men’s reaction to Ms. Bold Blue’s sweet talking are right, what gives ladies? In a world where Don Draper level sexy in a man is in very short supply, why aren’t more of us offering up compliments to the men who really turn our cranks?

SB

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Here’s a quick story:

July. 2010. Sunday afternoon. I merrily made my way to the subway station. I walked through my neighbourhood, lost in thought and enjoying the summer heat. I was clad in my uniform; dark blue jeans, fitted polo and Adidas kicks. I felt good. And I suppose I looked good. But since I was in my “uniform” I really wasn’t more fancily dressed than usual.

I skipped down the subway steps, onto the platform and made my way to my usual spot.

“Excuse me”.

I turned and noticed two attractive sisters shining in their Sunday best.

“We just wanted you to know that you….are….looking….foiiiiiiiine (Yes. That is not a typo. She said foiiiiiine, not fine) today. And don’t let anybody tell you different”

They affirmed their position by nodding in unison.

“Uh…thank you so much”, I managed to utter. I was stunned.

Because. This. Sh**. Never. Happens.

Now, I wasn’t beaten with an ugly stick but I don’t know how foiiiiiine I actually am. In my estimation I’m just a dude. Plus we all know this sh** is extremely subjective. But I do know I was walking on sunshine the rest of the day. I had a little extra pep in my step, a little extra oomph, a little more confidence. If one or both of those ladies had asked me to lend them a thousand dollars I probably would have whipped out my bank card and strolled to the nearest bank machine. Why?

Because. This. Sh**. Never. Happens.

Like never. Well, not never in the it hasn’t ever happened way but never in the Halley’s Comet kind of way. And it’s not just me. Most dudes I know aren’t intimately familiar with this kind of compliment. What’s worse is that when I ran this narrative past my married and boo’ed up friends the general sentiment was something along the lines of:

“I can’t remember the last time any woman complimented me about my appearance”.

I’m not sure if you’re still scoring at home but I’m not talking about single men, these are attached gentlemen whose significant others don’t tell them they look good. What’s that about? Why aren’t women telling dudes, especially their own dudes, that they look good? Are women allergic to complimenting men on their appearance? Do women believe men don’t like to hear this stuff? Or is there something else going on?

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