Do you know why I feel personally chuffed to the point of being tickled with joy whenever a woman on my timeline compliments me, calls me good-looking, or tells me she loves this or that photo of mine?
No, not because I am full of myself and #VainAsFuck. That too, but that isn’t the point of this post.
It is because a woman, a random stranger on the internet with whom I neither grew up, went to school or college, or worked, nor am I related to and have perhaps never met, thinks it safe to say that to me without couching her words in politesse, being assured that I will not misconstrue that (mostly) sincere compliment and immediately slide into her DMs with the hope of sliding into her pants.
That random person on the internet feels matey and chummy with me without worrying I will misunderstand or mistake it for anything but harmless banter between friends.
That woman feels she can backslap me, and I can backslap her back if we were in front of each other, that she can hug me and I can hug her back if we meet, that she can tell me her life story on WhatsApp or phone, and I will not take any of that as a signal to start fantasising that she wants to sleep with me.
Maybe it is my age. Maybe it is what and how I write about my life and my loves (whether my exes, my Maa, my Baby bear, or my BattleCat). Maybe it is my openness (and all the jokes I crack) about my singlehood and the candid conversations around it. Maybe it is something else that only women can sense. I don’t know. I don’t care.
I wish my father could see this. He had imbibed in us two brothers the utmost importance of being ‘gentlemen’, a word he never really explained, but we all understood instinctively.
So, when a lady says something nice about me on social media, I ‘heart’ her comment. And then, I smile.
P.S.: Not that I mind compliments from men or other genders. We’ve already established that I’m vain like that. So, don’t hold back. Let them flow, mates. It’s all good. It’s all good.