April 6, 2005
I got a couple of compliments this past week -- I think. Funny how these things pop up, and sometimes I'm receptive to it, and sometimes not-so-much. Not in any particular chronological order, but in the order in which I'd rather have them linger in my head tonight, here's what I got.
A few weeks ago, after a fabulous mini-reunion with some old college friends, I set up a Yahoo group to help us all keep in touch. In that process, I updated my profile, changed the photo, and ticked the box to list my profile in the Yahoo directory -- why not? Maybe more CSU or TVHS folks could find me that way. A few days later, while at work, an IM popped up: "Great smile", it said. I didn't recognize the user ID, but on the other hand, I've probably had 200+ people on my list in the past few years, since everyone at work uses it. "Um....Thanks....who is this?" I replied. Turns out, it's some guy who came across my profile somehow (I don't want to know what criteria he was searching for, though as I don't have too much detail on mine, it almost had to be age). He fancies "older" women, and would I like him to be my boytoy? Uh.....yeah. Flattering, thanks for the attempted ego boost, but no, thanks.
And if he'd left it at that, I might have come away with just the thought that I still had a decent smile, and maybe there was hope for me, after all. But no, he had to keep harping on the fact that I was "older" (if his age of 27 was truthful, I don't think that really qualifies me as "older", do you?). So now, instead of thinking that hey, someone thought I had a great smile, now I'm thinking "Yikes, are there any decent guys out there anymore?!?" I realize I may very well have turned down a Colin Farrell look-alike, but I think I'll take my chances, by not taking those chances. Come to think of it, Collin Farrell isn't all that, is he?
Now at about the same point in my life, I'd made contact with one of those old college friends -- one on whom I had a huge crush back then. I was teased at this gathering that I seemed to have a crush on every guy I ever met in the department, but isn't that just me seeing the good in everyone? Ah, but that's a different Mumbling. Anyway, back to the relevant part of the story. After I'd set up this Yahoo group, I had an e-mail or two with said former crush. He commented that it was great to see pictures of everyone, including me -- "...there's those eyes".
That comment alone would've been more than enough. I can read all kinds of things into the most vague statements, spinning them to suit my needs. Of course, "those eyes" clearly means that I had some magical hold on him, and that one picture reminded him of how much his life is missing by not having me in it. Uh-huh. Let's spell out the details of what I know his life is like now: um........I know virtually nothing of his life today. Married? Don't know. Kids? Don't know. Straight? Don't know. Benedictine monk? Don't know. Doesn't matter. We live in different states, in different worlds, and our only connection is the shared memory of some particularly base theatre environments, 17 years ago. Well, and those few e-mails. But "...there's those eyes" -- that's all I need to get me by for a little while.
Ah, but it doesn't end there. Or rather, I didn't let it. I replied to his e-mail, addressing some of the other things he said or asked, and at some point I made reference to that statement, saying that a girl will take all the vague comments to read compliments into that she can get. Wink. His reply, and I quote, said that when I smile, they "turn into sparkling half moons with stars behind."
Oy.
Ay-yi-yi.
Hoo-ee.
Let's make it clear that the logical part of my brain (the one that constructed the earlier paragraph acknowledging my lack of insight into his current situation) understands that this description is most likely just a description, and not intended to communicate any particular fancy whatsoever. Terms and conditions apply. See your broker for details.
Logic has always been the weaker of the 2 halves of my brain, and Emotion tends to dominate my head like a misguided stage diva. "It's all about ME!" That overbearing, dramatic Emotion (who still fancies herself an ingenue) has taken that tiny statement and rolled it over and over, dreaming up more scenarios than are even mathematically feasible. This prima donna Emotion is utterly, hopelessly silly and unreaslistic.
However.
This little compliment (whether it was meant as such or not) has provided fuel to get through more than one mopey moment. It has powered the silliest of grins, which (as you who are more scientifically-oriented may know) has a positive effect on the body. I've tucked that comment away into my file of "warm fuzzies" (let's just say, for the sake of this mumbling, that said warm fuzzy file is a figure of speech), with a few other such comments that I've received in the past. At least one, which I turn to whenever I really need a smile, referenced the freckle that adorned my lip in high school, and how damned cute it was. After reading that comment (from a married man, so I logically know that there was nothing to be read into it other than "hey, a freckle on the lip is kinda cute"), I found myself cursing my use of SPF, which resulted in the freckle disappearing.
I think there's value in receiving these little compliments, and in giving them too, for just the sort of reasons I've outlined above. I can't tell you how often I greet Cute Drummer Boy or 16-Year-Old-Piper-Friend with "Hey, handsome", or have told The Brute Squad that I just absolutely adore him. It's true. Now, do I lie awake at night, pining over these guys? Not as far as you know. ;) But I absolutely mean it, and I do adore them completely. Do they receive these comments with anything close to the same enthusiasm as I've heard about "those eyes"? I don't know. I sure hope so. But if any of the fellas I've mentioned here recognize themselves, let me know if I'm hitting the mark.
And if so, why then my "great smile" (freckle or no) will cause those "half-moon eyes" to sparkle again. 'Scuse me, I need to go be dreamy for a while.