I've been listening to Carlos Xuma's stuff lately, and one of his suggestions for approach anxiety is taking baby steps (my words).
I tried this last night. Unfortunately, the mall I chose was crowded with cultural stereotypes that I find very unattractive, and they don't dress well, so I only found one opportunity to pay a compliment, and that was after flirting with the salesgirl at Express Men. I wasn't attracted to her, but that wasn't the point: it was a fun interaction with another human being, and we both derived pleasure from it.
I was pleasantly surprised to find a coat that fit my needs at Express Men. Typically, their stuff is designed for the ultra-skinny guy, and I've got a Scandinavian build, so instead of a slim fit, their shirts are so tight that I look like I'm transitioning into the Incredible Hulk and about to tear through the fabric. It was an hour until closing, the checkout line was growing, and the two cashiers were harried and looked worn out. There was a complicated return, and tags were missing from some of the clothes. They called for a backup cashier, but she never materialized.
While waiting, I noticed a display of pocket squares next to the cashiers, high up on a display case. I pulled down two that caught my eye, and this was a factory store with Sale signs up everywhere, so I figured the price would be marked down from the tag.
When it was my turn, I asked about the cost of the pocket squares I had picked out, and the price was a bit high, so I put the other one back since it was right next to the cashier. "I'm so glad you're tall," she said, because the display was high enough that I had to reach up to re-hang the other square. I replied, "You would need a ladder, I think," with a smirk on my face.
She looked at her coworker and asked how tall she was. "Uh, about five foot... uhh..." she dragged out the inches, and it seemed like she was trying to make up a number. "Five foot one."
"Yeah, my height," said my cashier.
"With lifts! Are you trying to sneak a few inches on us?" I asked the other girl.
"Haha yeah, I'm five-two in heels!"
When she went to scan my coat, there was no tag inside. She excused herself to go find another, and came back with a different coat. She went to find one that matched, and I went with her, since I'd picked the rack apart trying on coats to pick the one I liked best. When we got there, it turned out mine was the last of that style, and she looked for a comparable one, and I mentioned that I thought it had a tag when I pulled it off the hanger, and I thought it was a certain price. She noticed that ALL of the coats on that rack were the same price, and so I said, "Oh, wait, I think mine was tagged at [half that price]."
She was looking at the coats, so she didn't see my expression before she replied, very seriously "Really?" She had completely bought my joke, thinking I was serious. I laughed and said, "No, I was pulling your leg. I was expecting to pay what these are marked at, so we can use that."
After I paid, she was apologizing that they didn't have any garment bags. "Oh, nevermind, then. I'm not buying these anymore, then!" She quips back, "Don't hate on us. It's not our fault." I laughed again, and said, "Nah! You look like you've had a rough day, so I'll keep them." "At least it's not raining, right?" she asked. We had a short talk about the weather lately, along with the other cashier, and mine mentioned that it was sprinkling when she came in. "At seven this morning, right?" She laughed harder this time, "No, 4 this afternoon. It's just been really busy, today."
She was making tons of eye contact and smiling and other IOI's that I don't remember. It's clear she was enjoying the conversation at least as much as I was, and I left her with, "Thanks for your help, Daniella. Have a happy New Year." and left.
I went into another store, looking for a scarf. A middle-aged woman was turning from side to side, trying to decide of the long coat she was trying on looked good enough to buy. I took this all in as I was walking into the store, and she was right up front. A perfect candidate for the Compliment Ninja. Without slowing down, breaking stride, or anything more than turning my head to address her, I said warmly, "It looks good." It took her a second to register that I was talking to her, and she was only able to thank my back.
Something in her voice told me that I'd made her week, and I had the feeling it was a long time since a non-familial man had paid her a compliment.
The best part of all of this is that everything is win-win in these interactions. I love paying compliments, and the fear that holds me back from paying them is just plain silly. I can't realistically imagine a woman being upset by a guy walking up and saying, "Excuse me for interrupting, but I just had to say that you have great looking eyes." and starting to leave before that's even registered. So why does the fear come up when I consider doing it?
I don't know the answer, and I don't even believe that the answer is important. What's important is acknowledging the fear, and paying the compliment. This is how the fear is disarmed in practice. Later, when I start using OF, I imagine this practice will go completely nonlinear as the fear is being dismissed on two levels.
After typing this out, the compliment fear is the more intriguing. Flirting has always been something I enjoyed, and has always come out in my relationships with girls. The give-and-take is fun! Compliments are less-risky: I'm in and out. There's no danger of maintaining a rapport I never built. It's irrational, which supports my signature: fear really IS a liar.
- Talk to and even flirt with cashiers, sales ladies, etc. They're paid to be nice to you in the store, so you're guaranteed a positive interaction, which supports the next step
- Compliment strangers. Go out and compliment perfect strangers in the mall, on the street, or any other public gathering. You do it such that you walk up, pay the compliment, and you're turning to leave and waving goodbye just as she's stammering thank you.
I tried this last night. Unfortunately, the mall I chose was crowded with cultural stereotypes that I find very unattractive, and they don't dress well, so I only found one opportunity to pay a compliment, and that was after flirting with the salesgirl at Express Men. I wasn't attracted to her, but that wasn't the point: it was a fun interaction with another human being, and we both derived pleasure from it.
I was pleasantly surprised to find a coat that fit my needs at Express Men. Typically, their stuff is designed for the ultra-skinny guy, and I've got a Scandinavian build, so instead of a slim fit, their shirts are so tight that I look like I'm transitioning into the Incredible Hulk and about to tear through the fabric. It was an hour until closing, the checkout line was growing, and the two cashiers were harried and looked worn out. There was a complicated return, and tags were missing from some of the clothes. They called for a backup cashier, but she never materialized.
While waiting, I noticed a display of pocket squares next to the cashiers, high up on a display case. I pulled down two that caught my eye, and this was a factory store with Sale signs up everywhere, so I figured the price would be marked down from the tag.
When it was my turn, I asked about the cost of the pocket squares I had picked out, and the price was a bit high, so I put the other one back since it was right next to the cashier. "I'm so glad you're tall," she said, because the display was high enough that I had to reach up to re-hang the other square. I replied, "You would need a ladder, I think," with a smirk on my face.
She looked at her coworker and asked how tall she was. "Uh, about five foot... uhh..." she dragged out the inches, and it seemed like she was trying to make up a number. "Five foot one."
"Yeah, my height," said my cashier.
"With lifts! Are you trying to sneak a few inches on us?" I asked the other girl.
"Haha yeah, I'm five-two in heels!"
When she went to scan my coat, there was no tag inside. She excused herself to go find another, and came back with a different coat. She went to find one that matched, and I went with her, since I'd picked the rack apart trying on coats to pick the one I liked best. When we got there, it turned out mine was the last of that style, and she looked for a comparable one, and I mentioned that I thought it had a tag when I pulled it off the hanger, and I thought it was a certain price. She noticed that ALL of the coats on that rack were the same price, and so I said, "Oh, wait, I think mine was tagged at [half that price]."
She was looking at the coats, so she didn't see my expression before she replied, very seriously "Really?" She had completely bought my joke, thinking I was serious. I laughed and said, "No, I was pulling your leg. I was expecting to pay what these are marked at, so we can use that."
After I paid, she was apologizing that they didn't have any garment bags. "Oh, nevermind, then. I'm not buying these anymore, then!" She quips back, "Don't hate on us. It's not our fault." I laughed again, and said, "Nah! You look like you've had a rough day, so I'll keep them." "At least it's not raining, right?" she asked. We had a short talk about the weather lately, along with the other cashier, and mine mentioned that it was sprinkling when she came in. "At seven this morning, right?" She laughed harder this time, "No, 4 this afternoon. It's just been really busy, today."
She was making tons of eye contact and smiling and other IOI's that I don't remember. It's clear she was enjoying the conversation at least as much as I was, and I left her with, "Thanks for your help, Daniella. Have a happy New Year." and left.
I went into another store, looking for a scarf. A middle-aged woman was turning from side to side, trying to decide of the long coat she was trying on looked good enough to buy. I took this all in as I was walking into the store, and she was right up front. A perfect candidate for the Compliment Ninja. Without slowing down, breaking stride, or anything more than turning my head to address her, I said warmly, "It looks good." It took her a second to register that I was talking to her, and she was only able to thank my back.
Something in her voice told me that I'd made her week, and I had the feeling it was a long time since a non-familial man had paid her a compliment.
The best part of all of this is that everything is win-win in these interactions. I love paying compliments, and the fear that holds me back from paying them is just plain silly. I can't realistically imagine a woman being upset by a guy walking up and saying, "Excuse me for interrupting, but I just had to say that you have great looking eyes." and starting to leave before that's even registered. So why does the fear come up when I consider doing it?
I don't know the answer, and I don't even believe that the answer is important. What's important is acknowledging the fear, and paying the compliment. This is how the fear is disarmed in practice. Later, when I start using OF, I imagine this practice will go completely nonlinear as the fear is being dismissed on two levels.
After typing this out, the compliment fear is the more intriguing. Flirting has always been something I enjoyed, and has always come out in my relationships with girls. The give-and-take is fun! Compliments are less-risky: I'm in and out. There's no danger of maintaining a rapport I never built. It's irrational, which supports my signature: fear really IS a liar.
Fear is a liar.
There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self. -- Ernest Hemingway
There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self. -- Ernest Hemingway
