I've had a few compliments, skewed or otherwise, that pleased me a lot. But none of them have ever stuck with me like the first time a particular very close relative called me a bitch. I felt like Diamanda Galas. Warped of me to like it, I know (for the record, I don't think I'd done anything too awful, but I honestly can't remember).
Certain compliments don't stick with me, because I essentially don't believe them - these would be ones to do with artistic/literary efforts, and appearance (compliments of that nature are better from strangers though, before they have any reason to lie). And some don't stick as discrete entities for any length of time because I believe them already, thoroughly - these are mostly sexual, because I've managed to maintain some semblance of ego in that area. Not that it's not nice to be told, y'understand. |
