Compliments

Sigh. You do know, don't you, that I could easily spend all day blogging? Except for the occasional dry week, I have so much to say! Which means that sometimes there is a topic I want to blog about, but keep putting off because there are other posts I want to write that I can't put off. I mean, you pretty well have to blog about things like Purim or Friday the 13th or a trip to New York when they're happening.

Which is why this very interesting question in Cary Tennis's column, published in February, is finally making it to these pages. The letter writer (LW) claims to have a problem I've not heard of before:

I cannot, for the life of me, give a genuine compliment. It simply doesn't come naturally. When I try, and I do, in order to maintain all the aforementioned relationships, it feels forced, more a matter of obligation than a gift that might put wind in the sails of someone I truly care for. I feel strongly that giving should spring from joy, or at least from a heartfelt desire to see the recipient enlivened by it. When I have nothing to offer in response to a job well done, or I can't cite the intrinsic value of those I love, everyone loses. I feel like I've warped the emotional and social development of my children, alienated any number of perfectly wonderful lovers, and generally kept the world at arm's length.

He's got a rather psychodynamic view of why he's like this; you can go read it if you want. According to the letter section, though, he's not the only one. Here's the letter I found most disturbing:

I'm horrible about compliments too. It's not that I don't appreciate people or admire them. But giving a compliment always feels so false. No matter how true it is, no matter how much the other person deserves recognition/ appreciation, a compliment always feels like ass-kissing. Not compliments to me from others (usually). Not compliments to others from others (usually).

It's like I have some sort of secret, subconscious, ulterior motive for getting into a person's good graces. Maybe that's where the issue lies. A compliment originates from ambiguous motives. Complimenting a person is like asking her to like you. I appreciate you. Appreciate me, too, please. Reciprocity, quid pro quo, the exchange of emotional goods.

If I tell you you're pretty, or that you did a good job, what will I get out of it? Giving compliments feels dirty.

Does anyone else feel like this?

A complementary (ooh! pun!) post was written on Jezebel in January. Tatiana the Anonymous Model wrote:

I sometimes feel like a ridiculous person for having reached adulthood without mastering seemingly basic conversational skills. Small talk? I suck. Banter? A high-wire act, as far as I'm concerned.

But worst of all is any kind of stereotypically female interaction. The making of nice. The exchange of compliments. The bonding.

If Cary's LW wasn't already married, he'd find his perfect woman in Tatiana, who can't accept compliments.

The comments in response on the Jezebel post make it clear, too, that Tatiana isn't alone in this. I feel like I've stumbled on a whole social minefield that I never knew existed. Personally, I've never had a hard time giving or receiving compliments, even when I was at my most hideously, Liz-Lemon-in-high-school awkward. I'm terribly interested in clothes and workplace competencies and human behavior, which means I notice lots of things to compliment people on. And it's always seemed natural to do so. Accepting compliments doesn't cause me much tsuris, either, although I do sometimes forget to say "Thank you" because I'm so excited to tell you about where I got that scarf (and they're on sale! you should go get one! it would look great on you!), or the cool Excel trick I learned that helped me format the report that way (you can do it, too! I'll come show you on my lunch break!), or the awesome new conditioner I bought that made my hair so shiny (it's only $5 at CVS! I think I have a coupon!). If any aspect of my appearance or accomplishments is good enough for you to notice, chances are I've put some effort into it, and want to share at least the story, if not the actual skill or item, with you.

But that's me, 'cause I am a big ol' yenta. And that's the guy who wrote in to Cary Tennis. And that's Tatiana. What are you like? Do you find giving and receiving compliments easy, or difficult? And why do you think that is?