Erica Lucke Dean

"Making the world a better place, one book at a time."

at least I’m unique

“She has a nice personality.”  

Why is that statement the kiss of death?  It’s one of the oldest dating clichés.  Without actually saying it, it says a girl isn’t all that.  Basically, she’s not attractive. 

The question, “Is she hot?” The reply, “She has a nice personality.” 

Kiss of death. 

But isn’t a nice personality a good thing to have?  Sure it is, but let’s face it; that is not what we women want to hear.  I don’t care who you are, you have to admit in some deep dark place within yourself, you want to be considered pretty at the very least.  And maybe I will expose my low self-esteem when I say I want validation from time to time.  It would certainly be nice to hear.  Hell, I might even admit I need it.  

And hey, I’ve had my share of compliments in my day.  If I stacked those compliments up I could probably spread them out to hold me over for the rest of my life, but it doesn’t work like that does it?  Not exactly. 

I’ll bet you’re wondering where I’m going with this…

I know my husband loves me, but some days I have no idea why.  He isn’t the type to dole out compliments, in fact I could probably count on one hand how many times he has complimented my looks…my intelligence…my singing…my decisions…or even my writing.  That’s not to say he has never complimented me, he just doesn’t give them out freely. 

It gets better…

I asked him today if he thought I was funny…so I was fishing, sue me.  He smiled and said I was “unique”.  “Ummm…unique?” I laughed.  “Isn’t that the same thing as saying I have a nice personality?” 

He laughed.  But he didn’t say anything.  So of course, I urged him to continue.  Ok, I nagged.  “Don’t I make you laugh?”  I asked.  “Oh…I laugh alright,” was his reply.  This didn’t make me feel any better.  I nudged for more.  He just laughed.  Apparently, I’m “one of a kind” and “there is no one like you” and “you have many wonderful qualities” I’m pretty sure I know what he meant by this, but my mother reads this blog.  

All I could get out of him was that he loved me.  For my uniqueness or in spite of it, I wasn’t sure.  But I guess we can’t really ask for more than to have someone take a good look at our weirdness and still want to be there…every day. 

Until the next time…I’ll be…well…unique.

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