Geez, I Was Just Trying to Be Nice to Make Myself Feel Good

So, Iain bought the most recent issue of Esquire, because Matt Damon is on the cover and we are a very pro-Damon household. The Damon cover story, which is about his charity work with, is very good. The rest of the content, as is typical of Esquire, is total shit.

Which does, in fairness, make it perfect bathroom reading.

This morning, I read this article, which is about a dude's personal crusade to find out how to deliver the perfect compliment. It's sort of like climbing Everest, except with more shouting at people on the street.

And—wouldn't you know it?—some people are ingrates who don't accept his compliments. And some people give him a case of the sads, like the guy whose complimented-on jacket turned out to be his dead brother's.

But learning to give the perfect compliment is still an endeavor worth pursuing—because giving the perfect compliment (or even a pretty good one) makes the person feel good, which makes him feel good, and isn't making yourself feel good really what giving compliments is all about?

You'll no doubt be happy to hear—spoiler alert!—that our intrepid reporter finally manages to deliver a real zinger. And if you guessed that it was from One Man to Another About Important Manly Things, give yourself 1,000 points.

I encourage you to read the whole thing. Raise your hand when you find the heterocentrism, and just blurt out to the whole class any patterns you notice in his compliments (hint: keep your eyes peeled for sexism and classism!).

This? Would be the sort of thing I'm talking about when I say stuff like this doesn't exist in a cultural void.


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