I'm not so anxious to get complimented. (I'm happy if I don't get criticized.) I do remember one from the year I spent taking dancing lessons at the Arthur Murray studio about a decade ago. It cost me about $15,000, but it improved my posture. (Watch how I push a shopping cart now.)
Anyway, my dance teacher Cynthia called me a gentleman. That's because at the studio's dance parties I'd make an effort to dance with every girl in the place. And if I saw a new girl, I'd dance with her first. It wasn't so much that I wanted to be gentlemanly; more that I needed some scheme otherwise I wouldn't know whom to dance with at all. I have Asperger's Syndrome and we tend to be like that.
I've had a lot of people tell me I'm smart, but that doesn't seem so important. (Einstein said that imagination is more important than knowledge.) Sometimes when people like me, I wonder why. But that's better than wondering why people don't like you (or worse, knowing why they don't).
I saw a documentary about Dolly Madison which mentioned a compliment she received: someone said that after you met her, you'd not only like her, you'd like yourself more than you did before. I hope I'll be worthy of a compliment that high someday.
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