Complementary Compliments

A few weeks ago, Cory and I had planned to go out to dinner. He and Steve had been to a car race earlier that day, and were stopping by to pick me and Moose up to go out to eat.

I spent my usual time getting ready, fixing my hair and makeup and picking out an outfit. I looked good. You know when your hair does just right? And your outfit seems to compliment your skin tone, and you just seem to have a glow? I did. I looked good.

Cory and Steve got home, and we went out. Cory did not breathe a word about how I looked. I was disappointed.

It actually made me think, and I realized he hadn’t complemented me in a while. Cory used to compliment be quite often. He used to really like that he worked in the dirty garage, and I was the clean snooty office girl. So he absolutely loved that I dressed up and wore suits into the ad agency I worked for.

Recently? Nothing.

So I decided to bring it up.

Me: I would kind of like to you to compliment me more.
Cory: You know I think you’re pretty.
Me: Yes, but it would be nice to hear it. And you could maybe pick out the things that look nice, like my hair or my legs or something.
Cory: *sigh of exasperation* Yea, okay... *turns Xbox up*

Two weeks had passed and I hadn’t got much. I think that I got a few half-hearted “you look nice” muttered between crunches of cereal.

Until... I was sitting and reading a book with my legs crossed. Cory came upstairs from his shower. He pauses in front of me, looks me up and down. I glance up at him from my book, one eyebrow raised.

Cory: Your... toenail polish looks... nice.
Me: ...
Cory: ...
Me: Thanks!

Well... he’s trying.
That is love and romance right there, baby.